Star Crossed
by chattypandagurl
Summary: Chris leads the resistance against Wyatt while Bianca unwillingly works for Wyatt. Through mutual goals, they decide to work together to bring Wyatt down. However, they never expected that through pain and loss they would find themselves falling in love.
1. Future

This story is a little idea that's been brewing in my head for a while. This chapter won't have much of Chris/Bianca in it because it's mainly for setting up the world and for Chris and Bianca's meeting. Hope you enjoy reading the story, and reviews would be much appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from _Charmed._

* * *

"Chris, watch out!"

Chris Halliwell orbed out in a swirl of white lights just in time. The energy ball instead burned a scorch mark on the wall behind where he was just standing.

He reappeared behind the demon, expertly placing his hands around its neck and snapping it with a swift crack.

The demon crumpled to the ground, then became a pile of ash in a flash of flames. The girl who had warned Chris sighed and picked up a broom, sweeping the contents into the trash bin.

"Nice call, Pen," Chris complimented, wiping nervous sweat from his forehead.

Penelope Halliwell grinned. "Anytime, cousin, anytime."

"What happened?" Brian asked, poking his head in from the other room.

"Demon attack," Penelope answered.

Brian nodded sleepily. "So that's the crashing sound I heard."

"Were you sleeping again?" Chris demanded. He meant to be scolding, but when one gets two and a half hours of sleep, it's hard to sound scary.

His friend nodded, "I know, I know. But I was on patrol yesterday and . . ." he trailed off.

"It's okay. We've all been tired lately. Next time, try to be awake just in case we need you."

Brian nodded and disappeared into the other room.

Chris scowled. "How the hell did the demon even get in here? Has Wyatt found us?"

His cousin shrugged, then shook her head. "No, I don't think so. The demon looked too surprised to see us. He must have found some hole in the protection and accidentally shimmered in. He's probably one of the renegade demons that are running away from Wyatt."

"You're probably right," Chris agreed, "But we have to fix the hole he came in. We can't risk one ofWyatt's demons finding us."

Pen grabbed Chris's arm urgently. "You're bleeding."

Chris stared stupidly at the blood on his arm. "Must have gotten fazed by the energy ball."

"Do you want to go to a whitelighter?" she asked, "I can orb you there in a flash."

"I can orb myself," Chris snapped. Immediately he regretted it. It wasn't Pen's fault. After all, she was the only family he had left. The daughter of Paige Halliwell, Penelope was also part whitelighter, therefore possessing the power to orb. She has also begun to develop healing powers too, a power her mother hadn't had.

His other aunt, Phoebe, also had a daughter, Melinda Halliwell. Except she wasn't with them anymore. Melinda was the second youngest of the Halliwells, and was easily impressionable. Chris and Penelope hadn't been able to save her from Wyatt's grasp. Now she worked with Wyatt, and thought of her cousins as the enemy.

So it was a dreaded situation whenever they met Melinda in battle. It's a miracle neither of the cousins has died so far.

Phoebe also had another daughter, Melinda's younger sister, Prudence. Nobody knew where Prudence had gone. She had simply disappeared, and neither Wyatt nor Chris was ever able to find her.

Wyatt. Chris's teeth clenched whenever he thought of his older brother. All of this, living in this place, hiding from Wyatt's henchmen, hiding from the probes, constantly having to be afraid, never having a moment's peace and safety: all because of Wyatt and his crazy strive for power.

It was that damned sword, Excalibur.

Wyatt's power and Wyatt's weakness. And of course, something else. He didn't know what, but some _demon_ or something turned Wyatt.

Immersed in his thoughts, Chris didn't notice the popping sound of a wine bottle. He winced as the alcohol was dabbed onto the wound on his arm. Pen wrapped a white cloth around his arm and tied it.

_Can I do it?_ Pen asked herself. She put her hands over her cousin's wound, willing herself to heal Chris. A pitiful, faint glow of gold appeared from beneath her fingertips, but it was gone as soon as it had come.

"Damn," she cursed. No matter how hard she tried, Pen hasn't yet discovered the trigger for the power. She's been getting help from the underground whitelighters, but they told her the trigger is for her to learn.

It sucks. Even when some of the resistance fighters have mortal wounds, Pen couldn't even heal them! They would have to get them to the _real_ whitelighters and hope they can heal them.

_Some healer I am, _Pen thought bitterly.

The door loudly swung open, and Andrea, their best scryer, burst through.

"There's an attack on a witch!" She announced.

Chris got up immediately to answer the call, but Pen pushed him back down. "No. You're staying here. I'll lead the team."

He gave her a defiant glare. He after all, was decided to be the leader of the resistance, though they had never had an official vote or anything.

Penelope gave him a sharp look. "I can do it. You know that. Besides, someone needs to hold up the fort."

Chris stared coldly at his cousin for a moment, conflicted on whether or not to let Pen lead the mission. She's been on missions, but have never lead one before.

Against his better judgment, he gave way to the determined look his cousin was now giving him. Chris knew that he had to stop protecting his younger cousin someday. She needed to assert independence, and prove to herself to be the asset Chris already knew her to be. She wasn't very confident, and is a perfectionist, and doesn't seem to realize how important she is to the whole resistance.

Every one of the witches in the resistance was important. With their unique powers and specialties, Chris knew that without them, he and the rest of their small original group wouldn't have survived the first year.

"Go, but find out if Andrea knows any info on the demon's powers. Then pick your task force,"

"I know Chris. Thanks. I won't screw up, I promise. We'll get the witch back here safely."

Chris waited until Penelope had exited through the doors to whisper, "I know, Pen, I know."

* * *

"Is everything in order?"

"Yes, mistress," The demon reported.

Melinda Halliwell waved at him dismissively, signaling for him to leave. She trailed over to the cauldron, her long red dress flowing behind her gracefully. Waving a slender hand over the sticky blood-like mass, she stared at it.

She was thoroughly disappointed when she saw Penelope leading the charge. Damn. She had so hoped it'd be Chris. That was the ideal target. No matter. Penelope would still prove to be a good catch and sufficient bait for Chris.

In her Seer's cauldron, she spotted Penelope and several other resistance witches. She could sense Penelope's excitement and seriousness for this mission. It was ironic really, for this mission would be her last.

"Come to me, dear cousin, come . . ." she urged Penelope, a mischievous smile curling on her lips.

_Oh, we are going to have some fun. _

* * *

Penelope and five other witches arrived on the scene to see a female witch frantically tossing potions at a flaming demon, who kept on coming, the potions having no effect on him. The demon was literally covered in flames, and the face was burnt and barely even recognizable.

She signaled to the other witches to attack the demon. Penelope orbed out, and took her position behind the demon. The others also set themselves up, the preparation determined by whether or not their power could be used long range or short range.

One male witch shot water at the demon, dousing some of the flames and igniting a sickening hissing sound and smell of burnt tires.

Another witch used her telekinesis to fling the demon to the wall, where Penelope leaped, wrapping a thick chain around the demon's neck, attempting to choke it. The demon shrieked in rage, flames reignited.

Penelope screamed in agony as the flames licked her skin, finally orbing out.

She orbed in close to the victim, saying, "It's okay now, we'll get you out."

"Actually, I'll be getting _you_ out." The witch replied, her voice icy cold. She turned around and grabbed Penelope roughly, revealing a phoenix birthmark on her arm.

Penelope was about to orb out when she found herself being knocked out by a Phoenix bounty hunter.

* * *

Andrea burst in yet again, this time much more frantic. "She's gone off the map!"

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked wearily. He'd been trying to get some sleep.

"Penelope!" she answered impatiently, not believing Chris didn't understand, "I can't find her anywhere! Xander and Ken are gone too, which means they're either in the Underworld . . ."

"Or the Manor," Chris finished for her. "Shit."

_Damn it, Penelope, I shouldn't have let you go. Now I've put you in _his _hands. _

* * *

Penelope woke up in a warm and soft bed. She stretched out and faced the ceiling. This was her room. Her old room, before her mom and aunts were vanquished, before Wyatt went power crazy and took over the world. Before she was forced to live in hiding.

But maybe that was all a dream. Maybe Wyatt isn't a mad dictator over the world. Maybe Melinda would have a normal adolescence without who knows what Wyatt's done. Maybe they wouldn't have to guess if Prudence was alive or not. Maybe Mom would still be alive . . . as well as her beloved aunts.

Perhaps Penelope and Chris haven't been fighting for their lives from demons directed at them from Wyatt.

Penelope turned around, and screamed.

She tried to orb out of there, but found she couldn't.

_This room must have some kind of spell so I can't orb out._ She thought.

Penelope frantically leaped out of the bed, searching her nearby area for anything she could use as a weapon. She found a picture of herself, Chris, Wyatt, and Melinda in happier days. The picture frame had a sharp edge on it; it will do. It pained her to have to use this picture, a picture she hated to have to leave behind to attack her cousin.

"Now, Penelope," Melinda laughed, "Do you really think you can kill me with a _picture frame?_"

"I don't need to kill you," Penelope hissed, keeping one eye on her cousin and the other on the door.

Again, Melinda laughed, a harsh, yet girly laugh. It made Penelope shudder at the strange mixture of the two.

"Of course you need to kill me. You think it's easy getting in and out of the Manor? I am one of the defenses," Melinda spread her arms out wide. "Go on, kill me!"

Penelope gripped the picture frame tightly in her palm, not noticing the trickle of her own blood now falling onto the face of Melinda's picture. "No."

"Why not? I'm the enemy, am I not?" Melinda smirked.

"No, you're not. You're my cousin," she said slowly, trying to restrain herself. She needed to get the heck out of there, but not this way.

Melinda laughed again. "Oh! So I'm your cousin now? Have you forgotten all those other times? Before the Charmed Ones died? You were so jealous that I, as the almost youngest Halliwell, got all the attention. And everything you did? Like when you orbed me to some park and just left me there?" With every word, she was getting closer to Penelope, now practically spitting in her face, her face contorted in rage.

"W-what are you talking about?" Pen stuttered, absolutely baffled. "Is that what Wyatt told you? It's not true! I loved having a younger girl cousin! It was a nice break after two older boy cousins."

"Guess you're the one doing the lying."

In a blink of an eye, Melinda flung something at Penelope, a small sharp knife. It wasn't aimed to kill, but it ripped the sleeve of Pen's shirt. Penelope winced and clutched the small cut across the arm.

The minor wound burned painfully. Penelope's eyes widened when she actually saw _steam_ rising from the cut.

Melinda smirked smugly. "An invention of mine. I worked for _months_ perfecting it."

"Guess . . . it must be boring . . . polluting the family name," Penelope spat between winces of pain.

Her cousin scoffed. "Polluting? More like rising. For years, Aunt Piper, Paige, and Mom worked hard to save the world. And what did they get in return? Nothing. Investigators snooping in their business. Demons constantly attacking them. It caused the death of Aunt Prue, who we never got to meet alive. They received nothing. So we made their accomplishments known in this Manor Museum, where they can finally be appreciated. Demons no longer plague us; now, we control them."

"Demons still plague me and Chris," Penelope corrected bitterly.

Melinda rolled her eyes. "That's because you and Cousin Chris both try to ruin everything we've built."

"What you've built is _wrong._ What about all those witches you've killed? What about them?! This is _not_ what they would have wanted! You haven't helped people _respect_ the Charmed Ones and witches . . . you've caused people to _fear _us!" Penelope raged, suddenly flinging the picture at Melinda. She moved to the side, but a sharp star that stuck out of the frame cut her cheek.

Melinda stood in shock, putting a hand up to touch the blood that ruined her porcelain complexion.

Penelope was breathing hard, but her gasps for breath became more infrequent. Whatever Melinda put in that knife, it was wearing off now.

She looked over at where the picture had smashed into the wall. The frame had broken into many pieces. Just like their broken family. The picture itself had actually managed to stay together. _Hopefully, our family can be whole again,_ Penelope thought.

But her musings were distracted by Melinda suddenly attacking her. With an angry scream, Melinda slammed Penelope into a wall, landing a loud slap on her face. Penelope's face stung as she tried to recoil, bringing her knee upwards into Melinda's abdomen.

Melinda punched Penelope in the face, causing blood to flow from Pen's nose. Penelope grabbed the small knife from behind her and was about to stab her cousin with her own invention when someone orbed in from behind her.

Wyatt grabbed her arm in mid-throw, crushed her wrist so that she dropped the knife in pain, and then shoved her towards Melinda, who caught her and threw her onto the ground. Melinda put one knee onto her back and forced Penelope's head down with her hand. Pen was completely crushed underneath Melinda.

Wyatt chuckled. "Looks like you got the wrong one, Melinda,"

Penelope was trying to say something, but it was muffled by the carpet.

"What's she trying to say?" he snapped.

Melinda allowed her a little head room, to which she spat, "She doesn't deserve to be called Melinda. Anbitch like her doesn't deserve to have the name of the witch who started our line. She was a powerful, but good witch."

"Oh, and I'm not?" Melinda shrieked in fury before burying Penelope's face back into the carpet.

Wyatt sighed. "Who I wanted was _Chris_."

"And you'll get him. He'll come for his cousin, guaranteed. And with his capture, the resistance and all of his witches will be put to justice." Melinda assured her cousin.

Wyatt frowned, but didn't say anything else.

He was about to leave the room when Melinda's eager voice asked, "What about Penelope?"

After a moment's hesitation, without turning around, Wyatt replied, "Do whatever you want, short of killing her."

Then he left Penelope alone with Melinda, in their childhood sanctuary, where they used to play dress up and perform skits in their own magical world.

"Goody," Melinda said gleefully, not even bothering to hide the evil intentions laced in that one single word.

* * *

Once outside of the room, Wyatt called, "Bianca,"

She appeared in front of him. "Master," The word had a slightly grudging and sarcastic edge to it, but Wyatt decided to let it go this time.

"I want you to find Chris. Bring him here, directly to me."

Wyatt noticed a slight spark of fire in Bianca's eyes. Obviously this order pleased her. Wyatt waved it aside, merely assuming that this was because of her natural born thirst for the hunt.

"If you don't mind me asking, sire, but how will I find him? We've never figured out the site of the resistance's main headquarters."

Wyatt turned to the beautiful bounty hunter, reaching out to touch her silky dark hair. Bianca couldn't help but flinch slightly at the touch. This only made Wyatt smile mischievously.

"_You_ are my best assassin and bounty hunter. Use your skills, and your imagination. Actually, it should be easy. He'll have to come out in the open to get here, so just wait for the opportune moment." Wyatt moved closer to Bianca, now a few inches from her ear, "Don't disappoint me."

Bianca drew away. "Yes, master." She shimmered out.

Wyatt smiled. _It looks like I'll be seeing you soon, brother._


	2. Rescue

Thanks to my first fourthree reviewers! I appreciate the comments.

Enjoy this extra long chapter!

* * *

Chris angrily shoved his athame into the built in sheath on the inside of his jeans. He then hooked his potions sack-formerly his mother's-onto his belt.

They were ready. Chris was still fuming about how he could have let his cousin walk into a trap! He had even begun yelling at Andrea for not seeing the trap even though there was no way she could have. The fact is, they should have been more prepared. They were sloppy with this. No backup or anything. This cat and mouse game of survival has really gotten to them all.

Planning ahead, Chris knew their empathic witch would have to master her power fast; they'll need her on every mission to avoid situations like these.

"Let's go," Chris told his team.

"How're we getting there?" Brian asked.

"We're walking there," Chris replied.

Everyone looked at each other. "You mean . . . on the surface? Where Wyatt can find us? In plain sight?" Another witch asked slowly, making sure she'd heard their leader right.

Chris nodded. "Brian, you're going to protect us. We should draw Wyatt out in the open . . . where his powers aren't as strong, being near the Manor and Excalibur. If not . . . we'll have to do it by force."

Brian raised his hand. "Are we losing the stealth thing we've been doing? 'Cause I really liked that plan." Brian. He always joked before they walked into a deathtrap.

He also always did that whenever Chris was driving him insane with a pep talk.

"Listen . . . we have to get Pen out. You guys get that, right? If you think it's too dangerous, you can back out now." Chris glared at the group. But he knew none of them would. They've been fighting together for a long time.

Chris smiled, seeing no objections. He nodded to Brian. Brian threw a potion at his feet and he was gone. The others went after him, while Chris orbed to the surface.

* * *

Bianca tapped her fingernails on the wood of the chair she was sitting in, impatient for her results.

_What is taking so long? Don't they realize that their precious Halliwell is missing?_ She thought angrily.

Bianca was high up on Wyatt's good list, at least enough to get an audience with his sadistic cousin. Not that Wyatt wasn't sadistic. He was, in his own way. Bianca scowled bitterly as she thought of the incidents she's had to endure.

Wyatt was her bounty. He still remains her bounty, to this day. Except now the hunter is working for the bounty. _I am a disgrace. It's so pathetic that I'm under the servitude of my prey. _

Now she calls him "master", "sir", and is forced to call the Halliwell girl with haunting eyes "mistress". At least the witch gets the job done.

Except now, Melinda was busy with the prisoner, so Bianca is now waiting on a scared, novice witch, newly acquired while begging for his life.

Bianca's tapping became increasingly frequent.

"What is taking so long?" she snapped.

His lips quivered anxiously at Bianca's fierce eyes, looking down nervously while stuttering, "I-I-I don't kn-know! Th-Th-They haven't s-s-surfaced y-yet!" Suddenly, crystal touched paper.

Bianca shimmered behind him, causing him to jump.

"Stop fidgeting." she ordered coldly.

He tried, but not hard enough.

Bianca took one glance at the Halliwell's position, frowning. Why would the Halliwell boy go out in the open? It's a perfect set up for an ambush.

_But there won't be any ambushing today, at least not on him._ Bianca thought, her mood suddenly spirited at the thought of what she could accomplish with her plan. Freedom.

She's been waiting for a heck of a long time for this opportunity, for Wyatt to trust her with the task of catching the ultimate bounty. Except now, with the younger Halliwell's help, the tables will be turned, and Bianca will become the hunter once again.

* * *

Chris and the rest of his team walked on. Perhaps Wyatt was going to wait for them. Either way, they're getting Pen out. He was sure Wyatt wouldn't kill him . . . after all, he _is _Wyatt's kid brother. Chris was counting on distracting Wyatt, trying to get him to sweet talk Chris to see his side of things. Everyone else can take care of demons. They'll get Pen and get out, with or without Chris. He trusted them.

Suddenly, one lone female demon shimmered right in front of them.

"What? No hello?" she asked sarcastically.

_Clad in leather, shimmering, bad jokes . . . definitely one of Wyatt's._ Chris thought, amused. He waited.

"I'm not here to kill you, if that's what you're thinking."

There were many snorts and laughs.

The demon tried to approach them, starting to say, "I have a proposition for you . . ." but was suddenly thrown backwards as she stepped to about five feet away from them.

Brian couldn't help but crack a smile. His ability to make energy force fields was extremely useful.

"What the hell?" she muttered, getting back to her feet. "I'm trying to help you get the Halliwell girl back!"

"And why would you help us?" Chris asked. He seriously considered just blowing the demon up, but his curiosity was peaked. What was Wyatt trying to pull?

She sighed. "Look, I'm not just a regular demon. I'm a Phoenix . . ."

"An assassin witch," Jane hissed, poison laced in her voice. Her entire family was murdered by several Phoenixes. She only escaped by using her power, invisibility.

"Yes," the Phoenix nodded, "Wyatt was my bounty, but I have to work for him now. Not a great situation is it? I want to help you take him down. I can give you inside information so you guys can stop him."

Chris couldn't help but roll his eyes. So this was Wyatt's plan. How obvious a trap could Wyatt set? He had no use in listening to this demon anymore; she was merely in their way.

With a flick of his hands, Chris reduced the demon to black molecules in the atmosphere. When he began to resume walking on his way, he received an unpleasant shock.

The molecules paused and lingered in the air for a moment before circling around and reforming the demon.

She shook her dark hair out of her face. "_That's_ never easy."

Chris gestured to the others. Potions were brought out.

The demon held her hands up. "We can help each other."

Something in her voice made Chris pause. Her voice wasn't desperate. It was sincere, but seductive. There was a cool, nonchalant quality to it that made him believe her.

But what if he was wrong? He'd already made a mistake today . . .

"We don't need your help," Jane replied coldly.

"Oh, I think you do." The Phoenix replied.

Jane took a few angry steps forward, but Brian grabbed her arm, shaking his head. She glared at him for a moment before yanking her arm out of his grasp. Her fierce gaze matched the Phoenix's, although all she did was stare at the witch back.

Impatient now, Chris blew her up again, gesturing to the others to move on.

"Wyatt will be expecting us now!" A witch hissed.

"We'll just have to go in _the other way,_" Chris said aloud, keeping one sharp eye on the black molecules.

Once reformed, the Phoenix shrugged and said, "Your loss," before shimmering away.

Chris scowled. They had just been delayed for a few good minutes, and Wyatt knows for sure now that they're coming.

"Let's keep going,"

* * *

Penelope Halliwell gritted her teeth in pain. She's had to endure torture from her own cousin. But what hurt more than her physical injuries were the hatred and _pleasure_ in Melinda's eyes. It pained Pen to know that the little rosy cheeked girl who loved trying on pink dresses, imagining she was a princess, turned out to be a cold, hard, and sadistic person who couldn't possibly resemble a true human being.

Wyatt had turned her somehow, and Pen could only cringe at the possibilities of what her older cousin could have done to break such a free and loving spirit. Melinda's cheeks, no longer rosy, were pale, paler than she should be. It looked like she hasn't been in the sun for a long time.

_Probably all that time in the Underworld_.

"Does this remind you of anything?" Melinda sneered, swiftly kicking the downtrodden Penelope. She groaned in pain as Melinda nailed the exact spot where there was a huge bruise already.

"W-" Pen paused for a moment to spit out the blood foaming in her mouth, "Why should it remind me of something?"

Melinda's face contorted into a scowl. "What you did to me!"

Penelope laughed, almost maniacally. Her mind and body felt numb now; Pen was afraid she was going insane. "D-Did to you?" she laughed again, harshly, for her throat was parched from thirst and coughing up blood.

Suddenly, Melinda took out a dagger, hovering it a few inches from Pen's eye. She titled the point so that it almost touched with the cornea.

But Pen was beyond the point of fear. How could she fear such a lost and misguided person, someone who, despite enjoying this torture, had some hidden doubt in her eyes? She felt all to numb to care anymore.

Melinda hesitated, seeing Pen's fearlessness of her. Then, taking it swiftly away from her blue eye, turned to her hand.

"You ruined my life," she hissed in Pen's ear.

With a swift slice, Pen's ring finger was cut off.

Pen screamed, allowing all the pent up pain to erupt in that moment. The pain was so excruciating that it broke her out of her numbness. Suddenly, shock took over and Pen began trembling, aware that she couldn't feel her finger. It was gone.

She didn't want to look, but Melinda cruelly turned her head around, allowing her to see the unattached finger lying near her right hand. Pen could see the blood flowing freely from the wound.

"You . . . bitch!" Pen screeched, rage and agony now flaming in her eyes. How could she have felt sorry for this _monster_ just a few moments ago?!

Penelope somehow found the courage and strength to use her free her left hand to slap Melinda's face. Her cousin recoiled with shock. Pen used this opportunity to push Melinda off her, kicking her chin, snapping her head back.

_Search for the darkness and refine_

_Bind the traitor of the Halliwell line!_

Penelope didn't have any hopes that it would work, butmaybe it would work, and thespell would somehow stop Melinda. And it did.

Melinda suddenly stiffened, as if bound by invisible cords. Pen didn't have time to celebrate the fact that her spell worked; her mind was only on escaping. She shoved Melinda into the closet, knocked her out with a coat hanger, tore off the fabric off an extremely old shirt lying in closet and wrapped her right hand in it.

She slid down against the wall, suddenly exhausted by her efforts. She had done it. Pen really wanted to escape _now,_ but she couldn't summon the energy.

That's when she realized the full force of it. _My spell worked!_

Pen was possibly the worst witch compared to the other Halliwells. Everyone was at least half witch, with another powerful being as their father, but Pen was only a fourth witch. Not that she blamed her father; she loved him, and the fact that at least she could see him from time to time, unlike Chris, whose mother died and father is the object of utter loathing.

Finally, Pen hoisted herself up carefully, ignoring the pain from her various bruises and her hand.

She opened the door and came face to face with the same Phoenix bounty hunter that had brought her there in the first place.

_Shit._

Penelope kicked out, but the Phoenix shimmered out behind her, grabbing her from behind and shutting the door. She put her hand over Pen's mouth, hushing her.

"Quiet! Do you _want _people to come and investigate?" she hissed, sounding thoroughly annoyed.

Finally, when Pen quieted down, the Phoenix took her hand off of Pen.

"Who _are_ you?" Pen asked suspiciously.

"My name's Bianca. I'm here to help you."

Pen's eyes narrowed. "Why the hell would you do that?"

Bianca explained about Wyatt being her bounty and becoming his servant instead.

"I want out." Bianca finished, "And helping you resistance fighters is my only way. Do you want my help or not?"

"I don't need your help." Pen scowled. There was no way she was working with an assassin witch.

Bianca sighed irritably. "That's the _second_ time someone's told me that today! Well, do you know where all the guards are at?"

"No . . ."

"Then you need my help." Bianca said simply.

Pen was skeptical. "How are you getting me out?"

"Simple," Bianca replied before smashing a potion on the floor and shimmering out.

Pen coughed from the explosion and cursed her.

_God! She's probably getting Wyatt or his cronies right now . . ._

But then, once the smoke faded, Bianca shimmered in again. "Get my plan yet?"

Penelope was about to answer no, she didn't, but then she saw that her body had completely disappeared.

"Snatched it from the Halliwell girl's private stash," Bianca added.

"Melinda?"

Bianca nodded. Now, come on, and follow me.

"Can't you just shimmer me out? Or let me outside so I can orb?" Pen said.

The Phoenix shook her head. "No, because there are sensors here, operated by Melinda's cauldron, that has a red light to anyone shimmering or orbing in here besides demons and Wyatt. We'll have to get you outside the Manor, _then_ you can orb out."

Pen nodded, then realized she was invisible. "Ok, but how do I get un-invisible?"

"Antidote," Bianca replied, shaking the potion vial in where she thought Penelope's face was.

Bianca opened the door and walked out, followed closely by Penelope.

* * *

Chris just blew another demon up as they made their charge into the Manor.

"This is suicide; you do know that, right?" Brian shouted.

"And you mention this _now?_" Chris asked, laughing. He knew this was serious, but vanquishing demons always helped him take off the stress.

Brian chuckled as he vanquished another demon by driving it into a coat rack with his energy shield.

Chris was still wondering why Wyatt hasn't shown his face yet. He was still on the lookout for anything slightly suspicious.

"I'm going up," Chris announced, "Get out if it gets ugly,"

Brian nodded and threw a potion at another demon, causing it to die in agonizing flames.

He ran up the familiar staircase and came face to face with the Phoenix.

"You!" he accused, almost plunging the athame into her. But she was ready. She shimmered out behind Chris, and grabbed the athame out of his hand.

"It's okay, Chris!" A voice called out.

Chris looked around, completely confused. "Pen?"

"Yeah. Bianca helped me escape."

"Who's Bi-" Chris asked, but then it dawned on him, "You. I guess you weren't lying?"

"No," Bianca said, glaring at him.

Bianca gestured to the door. "Let's get her and your group out before the _real _trouble gets here. She took a potion vial out and handed it to Chris, "This should make her visible again."

"Good luck," Bianca also handed Chris's athame back, "This'll glow black if I have any information for you. Go to the Golden Gate Bridge Park."

"Wait!" Chris said, but she had already shimmered out. "Damn . . ."

Chris looked around for Pen. "I guess we should go,"

He looked down at his fellow resistance fighters. "Get out now!" he shouted.

Suddenly, there were cracking sounds of broken vials as they were all gone in a loud explosion. Chris himself took out his own potion and was about to throw it down when it was zoomed from his hand into his brother's.

"So this is the key to your hiding pace, huh?" Wyatt smirked.

But Chris used his telekinesis to throw the vial into the wall, causing it to shatter and be no use to either of them.

"And I know Penelope is there too, though I can't see her," Wyatt smiled eerily at the exact place where Pen was.

"Orb out," Penelope hissed into Chris's ear.

But, as if Wyatt could read her mind, he stopped Chris, choking him without actually touching his younger brother.

"Come on, dear brother; don't tell me you haven't thought about the possibilities of you ruling alongside me? The power, the _peace_ we could bring?"

"No peace comes with-with working with demons!" Chris gasped.

Wyatt's sweet façade crumbled. His face became hard, the lines of his mouth cruel. "Then I guess I can't have you opposing me," he said.

But Pen grabbed onto part of Chris, orbing both of them out of there, just narrowing escaping the grasps of Wyatt.

Chris and Penelope orbed back onto the hard floor of their home. Jane breathed a sigh of relief when she saw them.

"We were about to go back to get you! We thought Wyatt had gotten you!" she exclaimed.

Chris grinned. "Never."

But Pen saw the weariness in Chris's eyes, the pain of seeing his brother again, his enemy.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Chris groped in the air for Pen. She lightly grabbed onto his hand. Feeling his foot around to find where exactly she was, Chris threw the vial down, and everyone could see Penelope.

There were hugs and shouts of victory as the group became relaxed.

_They deserve it, _thought Chris, _they stuck with us and fought hard._

He took out the athame, which shinned silver and newly cleansed of the blood of many demons vanquished with it. Chris stared at it for a moment, wondering if that woman was for real, if she truly meant to help them, even if it would achieve her own means.

But something out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. There was a white cloth wrapped around his cousin's hand, and he could now see the various bruises and scrapes on her face.

"God, what did Wyatt do to you?" Chris asked, horrified.

Pen looked down, whispering quietly, "It was Melinda."

Chris nodded numbly. Melinda, Pen, and Prudence were very close when they were younger.

"You'd better get that fixed up," Chris suggested.

"I was just going now," Penelope responded.

Chris hesitated, then enveloped his cousin into a tight hug. "You can talk to me, you know that, right?"

Pen smiled at her cousin, who had always taken care of her with the love of a brother. "Thanks," she said before orbing out.

Though Pen had already left, Chris was still worrying about her. He stared at the athame, his thoughts once again on Bianca, and her request to help them defeat Wyatt.

Chris clenched the athame tightly in his hand.

_Wyatt, I am getting you back . . . no matter what I have to do._

* * *

Penelope orbed into an underground sanctuary, golden orbs floating around, protecting the whitelighters and a couple of elders. Other remaining whitelighters and elders were scattered around various places, so if Wyatt ever found one, he wouldn't be able to get all of them.

"Penelope," Leo greeted curtly. He'd gotten past the point of hoping that either Penelope or Chris would ever have a conversation willingly unless absolutely necessary. Chris had never forgiven him for not being there for him before, which Leo personally thought was rather selfish of him; if he still remained to be a whitelighter after Chris was born, he would have been able to spend more time with him. But since he got promoted to elder, he couldn't find the time. Leo knew Chris resented him for taking Wyatt's side when he turned evil as well. But who could blame him? This was his _son_ he was talking about. Of course he'd defend him.

Penelope had always been close to Chris; no doubt he and his opinions of Leo rubbed off on her.

"Uncle Leo," Pen said coldly. She looked around and couldn't find who she was looking for. Sighing, she asked distantly but politely, "Where my dad?"

"Right here,"

Penelope turned around and couldn't help but smile at the sight of her father.

Kyle Brody stood there with his arms open, which Penelope ran into eagerly like she did as a child.

Leo smiled to himself at the happy reunion, but then those feelings were replaced with sadness that none of his sons would ever do that. One was evil; the other hated him and always would. His heart ached as he felt again how much he missed Piper. He also knew it was partially his fault that Chris hated him. Leo would give anything to change that, change the fact that his youngest son loathed him with all his heart. Sighing sadly, Leo walked away and let the only happy relationship in this family play itself out.

"Hey Pen," Kyle said, "You and your cousin really had us worried there, you know that?"

"I know," Pen said, snuggling herself against her dad.

Kyle pulled her further away and saw the extent of the damage. "Who did this to you?" he demanded angrily.

Pen didn't look at him. "It doesn't matter."

"Yes it does! I know that it's risky and I can't do anything about it, but I have a right to know!"

His eyes softened as he saw his daughter cringe. Kyle felt immediately horrible. His daughter had gone through so much, and he wasn't helping.

"I'm sorry," he apologized softly, "I overreacted; it's just that when I died and became a whitelighter . . ."

Penelope smiled, "It's okay Dad. But something good _did_ happen . . ."

"What good could possibly come from this?" he asked, surprised.

"I cast a spell and it worked!" she told him.

He hugged her again. "That's great."

"Now I just wish my healing powers would work," she said, her eyes suddenly distant.

Kyle shook his head. "These powers mature with time. That's what your Mom was always saying. Besides, you're three fourths whitelighter; you definitely have it in you. Now, let's heal you up,"

A strong golden glow emitted from Kyle's hands as he hovered it around his daughter. Soon, all the bruises and cuts were magically gone, and Pen felt immediately better. Except for her hand.

She unwrapped the linen off her right hand and showed her father her four fingers.

Anger flared in Kyle's eyes, but all he said was, "You never told me who did this."

"Melinda," Pen admitted.

Kyle looked like he was going to say something, but stopped himself. Instead, he concentrated on healing his daughter's hand. The bleeding stump healed over with a patch of skin, but the actual finger did not grow back.

Frowning, Kyle tried again. Nothing happened.

Pen's heart skipped a beat. Was her finger gone forever?

"Hey Leo?" Kyle called.

Leo excused himself from a conversation with a whitelighter and strode over.

"Can you bring back Pen's finger?" he asked. He prayed that his brother-in-law could.

Leo hesitated and met Pen's eyes, silently asking for permission. Pen eyed him coldly for a moment, but nodded her consent. Leo waved his hand over the wound but still nothing happened.

He locked eyes with Pen. "I'm sorry," he said, feelings genuinely sorry, "We can't re grow a body part that's been separated from the body. Maybe with the finger itself we could reattach it but . . ."

Pen could have kicked herself. Why didn't she bring the finger with her?!

"Thanks," she muttered, "I'll see you later Dad," With that, Pen orbed away.

* * *

A few days after that, Chris winced as he felt a hot burning sensation in his leg. When he pulled up his jeans' pant leg, he saw that his athame was chalked black.

_What the hell does that Phoenix want?_


	3. Partners

**Leigh1986: **Notice how Kyle really _is _a whitelighter in the show? I found a spoiler saying he was so I incorporated it into my story, but not wanting to spoil it for others, I didn't mention that it was a spoiler. Glad you like the story!

Thanks for the reviews! At last, some Chris/Bianca flirtation, though they don't actually _realize _they're flirting, if you know what I mean. The full on relationship will come later, with _major _complications. (Foreshadowing, much?) Enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Chris arrived at the Golden Gate Park in a swirl of blue orbs, his hands on his athame, prepared for anything. 

As he observed his surroundings, he noticed the raven haired Phoenix sitting patiently on a stone bench beneath the crumbling statue of an angel.

Bianca looked up expectantly when she heard the familiar chiming of orbs that she's gotten used to hearing. She's seen Wyatt orb in many times, much to her displeasure.

She followed Chris's gaze to the stone angel and smiled at the irony. "I thought it'd be appropriate. After all, I am meeting a real life angel."

Chris was uncertain of how to react to that.

_Just stick to business. _He reminded himself. There was no need to joke around with a killer. She may technically be a witch, but she was certainly demonic enough, with the shimmering and . . . well, leather.

The Phoenix scooted over and tapped her fingernails on the vacant spot beside her casually. "Sit."

"I prefer standing," Chris replied coldly. But for some reason, he could feel some kind of embarrassment. His mother had taught him to always be polite, but was he really supposed to feel bad for being rude to one of Wyatt's flunkies?

Something about her unsettled him. It was like that feeling before, like Chris knew she was telling the truth, believed her.

Bianca, it seemed, was just fine with this. She merely shrugged and said, "Suit yourself."

"So what do you want?"

Absently crossing one leg over the other, Bianca shifted herself into a more comfortable position, leaning back slightly on the angel statue.

"Wyatt's planning on building more probes." Bianca informed him.

Chris scoffed. "So? I knew that. It's not exactly big news."

Bianca sighed in exasperation, looking up at him as if he were a small, naïve child. "Idiot. He's _mass producing _probes now. That means that he can station them literally _everywhere_. How long do you think your resistance and any other witches can hide when that happens? He's speeding up the process of his takeover."

Chris looked uncomfortable and embarrassed. Bianca had to smile at that. It amazed her that _this _was the leader of the resistance, the one major thorn in Wyatt's ass. He was nothing but a kid. He could have been a college student, but was instead fighting the old war of good and evil against his older brother.

It was odd though; Bianca would have assumed that Chris would be the stronger brother, considering he was the son of an Elder and a Charmed One, whereas his brother had been conceived while the Elder had still been a Whitelighter. It must be that twice-blessed thing. That was something Bianca had never understood, and never worked up the nerve to ask Wyatt for himself.

She'd prefer to stay as invisible to Wyatt as possible. Unfortunately for her, he never allowed her to be that way, always getting up in her face. Bianca didn't want to admit it, but she feared Wyatt, and never cared enough or liked the company enough to joke with the demons or witches that worked under Wyatt. She doubted demons would be very good company, and the captive witches would be too damn scared to be any fun.

She had to admit, it thoroughly pleased her to fluster the Halliwell boy like that. It was fun provoking him.

Maybe it was because she liked the contrast. Christopher Halliwell was so different from his brother. The youngest son almost seemed . . . shy.

But then again, it was probably his conscience kicking in, telling him not to work with her.

Well, that's too bad for him. Bianca wasn't going to let him off that easily, not before she got what she wanted: freedom.

Silence lapsed between the two for a moment, and Bianca noticed Chris's fingers gripping the handle of his athame harder than he should.

"Relax, would you?" Bianca commented coolly, "If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it before now."

"What makes you think you can?" Chris snapped back irritably.

In a blink of an eye, she shimmered out and in behind Chris, reaching around his body to grab his hands, using one leg to balance herself and the other to wrap around his, holding him firmly in place.

"Like this," she breathed into his ear, "If I can catch the son of a Charmed One off guard, what kind of damage do you think I can do to a whole horde of demons? I can help, if you let me."

Angry and ashamed at being caught in this situation, Chris orbed out.

Bianca was now grasping at the air. But she smiled. She knew he would come back.

Apparently, she guessed right. The swirl of blue orbs only went a few feet to the stone bench.

A furious Chris rematerialized sitting on the bench, his athame now positioned steadily, though Bianca noticed the slight tremor of his hand.

Chris was fuming with anger and irritation. What the _hell _had happened? Why did he lose his cool? Why was he unprepared? He just didn't understand it; after all this time of fighting Wyatt, trying to stay one step ahead of him and keeping his friends alive . . . why would he be falling apart _now? _

More importantly, why was he only falling apart after meeting _her? _

"Sorry about that," Bianca apologized casually, as if she had just accidentally bumped into him, "but you really should be constantly on your guard. You never know–probe!"

Wheeling around suddenly, Chris saw the probe emit light beams, screening his face. He was paralyzed, his eyes darting back and forth in panic.

Suddenly, the probe burst apart with finality as an energy ball made contact. Bianca had saved Chris.

"You see? We have to destroy it,"

"Destroy _what_ exactly?" Chris asked, regaining his composure and assuming a cold, emotionless expression.

Bianca pointed vaguely in a direction. "A factory that Wyatt's been building for years. It's been built by magic, both demonic and Wicca. So it's a pretty powerful fortress. Probes are going to be mass produced by the thousands. Probably some time in the next month, the entire country will be littered with them."

"And that's it?" Chris asked skeptically, "That one factory is going to destroy all our hope? Can't Wyatt just build another one?"

Shaking her head quickly, Bianca explained, "No, because he's spent a lot of recourses on this project. Knowing Wyatt, if this fails, he'll just try again with a different method. Thing is, this is the most effective one. And he'll have some pretty pissed off demon contacts. I doubt this is really all that important to him anyway . . . personally I think he enjoys taking over things slowly."

Chris stared at her with distrust, "'Knowing Wyatt'? So I guess you are pretty high up there on the demonic hierarchy, huh?"

"I'm _not_ a demon," Bianca protested defensively, "And yeah, I'm up there, but it's not like I want to be. A girl's got to survive. The only way to get out of doing the crap jobs is to be high on Wyatt's nice list."

_But even being on his nice list has its consequences._ Bianca thought bitterly. She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. She didn't want to dwell on what Wyatt regards as a "reward".

"So what do you intend on doing?" Chris asked sarcastically, "Blow it up?"

A small mischievous smile spread across Bianca's face. "Actually, that's _exactly _what I was planning to do."

* * *

"Are you sure you want to do this alone?" Penelope asked worriedly. "You don't want me or anyone else to come?" 

Chris shook his head. "No. It's too dangerous, and besides, you're still recovering from . . ." he trailed off.

A flash of irritation crossed her face. "It's only a finger, _Christopher_, I'm not handicapped."

"I know but –"

"But nothing!" Pen was angry now, "What if you die! How the hell are we supposed to do? _I _can't lead, _nobody_ can lead except you! You-you can't leave me alone!"

Chris flinched at her harsh words. "I-Pen . . . I'm not going to leave you alone. I'm coming back, I promise. And I won't be alone; Bianca will be there with me . . ."

"_That _I don't understand. I mean, I'm grateful that she helped save my life, but I thought you didn't trust her at all!"

He scowled at that. This was true, especially after what had just happened at the park. Nevertheless, she was his eyes; he didn't know his way in. As much as he hated to admit it, he needed her.

As for trusting her, he still had that funny feeling that she was telling the truth.

"I'll be fine," he assured his cousin, "Just-just don't worry, okay? It _has _to be a one man, well one man and a woman, mission. We can't risk exposure, and more people will increase that risk."

Penelope stared at her older cousin, who had always been more like a big brother to her, and pulled him into a tight embrace.

"Come back," she pleaded, "We need you. _I _need you."

Chris smiled cockily, assuring her, "I will."

He orbed out in a swirl of blue lights.

* * *

_Hide us both so that it cannot see_

_That we are not what we appear to be_

_Show us as a being in their eyes acceptable_

_Till we are safely out of harm's way be perpetual_

"Not bad, Halliwell," Bianca smirked as she felt a tingly sensation rush through her body.

"So . . . what are we going to appear as?" Chris asked, shivering in the cold air.

Bianca smiled. "You'll see,"

She grabbed Chris's arm suddenly, who flinched and whipped out his athame in an instant, the blade now positioned centimeters away from Bianca's neck.

Apparently not concerned with this, she merely chuckled. "A little jumpy, are we?"

Chris moved the blade closer so Bianca could feel the cold metal on her skin. "I'd say I have a good reason," he hissed in her ear.

_Ha. Payback. _He thought. She caught him off guard earlier, and now he was repaying the favor.

"Man, I guess all of you Halliwell boys are neurotic." Bianca laughed.

Chris winced. His mom used to call him that.

"So you going to leave a girl hanging, or are we going to finish this?" Bianca asked calmly.

Hesitating for a second, he slowly put the athame away.

Bianca flipped some of her dark hair off of her bare shoulders. "Save that athame for later. You may need it."

Chris raised his eyebrows questionably, but Bianca didn't answer. She just reached for his arm again, this time asking him with her eyes for permission.

"What are you doing?"

"Shimmering us in. If you orb, the glamour won't be able to hide the orb lights."

Sighing slightly, Chris gave her his hand. The skin on her palm was very smooth and nice to the touch.

Not surprisingly, shimmering felt very similar to Chris. The only difference was that it was quicker, and lacked the warm feeling of orbing.

When they arrived inside the factory, it wasn't anything like Chris would have suspected. Actually, he wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't this. He would have assumed there'd be demons and witches running all over the place, which was his concern about Bianca's plan of blowing it up. But apparently, human casualties were not something they'd have to worry about.

The entire factory was powered by machines.

"I thought you said this was a powerful Wicca and demonic powered fortress!" Chris exclaimed, dazed.

Bianca nodded, "It is. Of course, there are no protections about _who_ gets in. That's why we could shimmer in. Wyatt _wants _people to get in, so he can see who is trying to sabotage it or whatever. No, the magic is all underground, protecting the main core. That's where we're going. All these machines are powered by magic."

"So, what, the glamour makes us look like working machines?" Chris asked.

"Exactly."

Chris gulped. "Right,"

Bianca smirked. "What, getting cold feet?"

"No," Chris glared at her, "I'm just curious as to _how _are we going to blow up something powered by a hell of a lot of magic."

Bianca began walking, Chris by her side. "You bring the potions? You did exactly as I told you?"

Chris gestured to his potion sack. "Our best potion makers concocted it. But it's not powerful enough to blow up this thing, by the sound of it."

"I had to deliver the schematics for this place, so I know how it works. And with a little . . . _research_ . . . lucky for us, I found out exactly what components are put into this thing."

Chris figured "research", by the sound of her tone, meant the torture of the demons, or potentially witches, who made the core.

"–the main power source for it is the Nexus, which contributes to the Wicca power mostly. Then Wyatt has a little place where he keeps a bunch of traitor upper level demons who tried to revolt against him. He slowly sucks up their life force, and demonic powers, to keep this place going. There are always plenty of revolutionists, so he never runs out of demonic energy."

_Sure sounds like Wyatt, _Chris thought ruefully.

"So a couple of potions are going to fix everything?" Chris asked.

Bianca sighed impatiently, quickening her pace. "See, I found that the slight snag in Wyatt's plan is that the only way to get anywhere _near _the core or to even have a chance of destroying it is to use the blood of a Halliwell."

Chris stopped cold, his hand resting on his athame. "_What?_"

"Don't worry," Bianca chided for what felt like the millionth time that day, "it only requires a little blood."

"Doesn't Wyatt know about this?" Chris demanded. "We could walk right into a trap!"

Bianca shook her head. "No we won't. Wyatt knows you're smart, but he underestimates your Intel. Don't worry, he has no idea."

Grudgingly, Chris followed her down past the massive machines and into the heart of the factory.

They reached a doorway with no inscriptions or any writing of any kind to indicate how to get past.

"Give me your hand," Bianca ordered.

"I'll cut myself, thanks," he shot back, taking his athame and slicing the palm of his hand, wincing at the pain. _Then_ he offered his hand to Bianca, who positioned it in the middle of the doorframe.

A hissing sound emitted from the door, and it swung open. Once they both crossed inside, it shut with a hiss.

The core was small. Sphere shaped, it had blue and red sparks flying around inside it at a quick pace.

"It couldn't have possibly been _that_ easy," Chris muttered to himself, still wary for traps.

Bianca shrugged. "Wyatt's got a big ego. He wasn't counting on someone knowing exactly how to counter all the little measures."

Deciding to not respond to that, Chris removed his potion sack from his belt. "Mind explaining to me how this works?"

"I found out information on each of the demons, and found out vanquishes for each of them. As for the Nexus, one of those potions is supposed to drain it of its power for about five seconds. So we throw in the demonic ones first, vanquishes the energy of the demons in there, and then I'll throw the last one and you can blow it up with your witch powers."

"That easy?" Chris said again skeptically.

Bianca nodded confidently. "That easy."

Chris hesitated. He had no idea if this was true. He doubted himself, and the instincts that told him Bianca was telling the truth. Suddenly gripped by recklessness, he decided, _What the hell. _He always had his back up plan anyway if Bianca decided to double cross him.

"Ok."

They both grabbed an equal amount of demon vanquishing potions, and Bianca grabbed the Nexus potion, the only white substance in the potion sack.

While throwing the demon vanquishing potions, they could hear screams of agony. Whether they were just from the energy inside the sphere or the actual demons themselves, Chris wasn't sure, but he did his best to block it out. Shrieks of agony can be quiet distracting.

Finally, they were done, and the only sparks left were the blue ones. Just as Bianca threw the Nexus potion in several demons shimmered in around them.

Shooting Chris a hurried look, Bianca began to fight off the demons, buying Chris time.

Without hesitation, Chris flicked his hands and the sphere shattered. He strode over to Bianca and grabbed her wrist. She quickly shimmered them out while explosions could be heard around them, fire sparking up and inflicting the demons.

Once they shimmered back to Golden Gate Park, under the angel statue, Chris spoke. "We did it."

Bianca smiled widely, the adrenaline of the fight still coursing through her veins.

"Wyatt's going to know it's us," Chris commented.

"No, he'll assume it's you. But there's no reason to suspect me. Which reminds me, I'd better get back." She smiled, hesitating for a moment before sticking her hand out. "We make a good team,"

Chris stared at her outstretched hand. He looked up at her, fire in his deep green eyes. "That's true. But once Wyatt's rule is over, and the world goes back to the way it's supposed to be, good versus evil, we'll be fighting each other."

"Who says I have to be evil?" Bianca smirked, amusement dancing on her lips.

Chris chuckled and shook her hand.

"Till next time," Bianca said, shimmering out on the last word.

Smiling to himself, Chris felt a new hope emerging. Maybe, with Bianca's help, he can save his brother, and what remains of the world . . . and his family.

* * *

Wyatt banged his fists down on the table in fury. 

"What the hell do you mean _the probe factory is destroyed!" _he yelled at the demon, who cringed in fear.

Excalibur materialized in his hands, and the demon's head went rolling off onto the floor in a split second, the body's remains incinerating to ashes.

Wyatt's breathed hard, his shoulders heaving.

What a _fool_. He told Wyatt that a few machines were throwing potions into the sphere and fought his security off before the factory blew up.

_A few machines my ass, _Wyatt thought furiously.

Wrapped up in his anger, Wyatt proceeded to kick another chair, quickly using his telekinesis to bring it back before it broke a window.

_Christopher, _Wyatt fumed. The mere thought of his little brother infuriated him. He knew that dear little brother was the one behind it. How he knew about the factory at all mystified Wyatt.

Wyatt decided that Chris must have some kind of inside contact. But who? There was no way Wyatt could screen every single demon; that would take too much time. He'll have his two best find out for him.

"Shackle! Bianca!"

A gruff, buff upper level demon shimmered in first, followed by the beautiful, graceful Phoenix.

"There's a traitor within our ranks. Find it." Wyatt said coldly. "Don't disappoint me."

"Yes master," both muttered.

As they turned to leave, Wyatt called Bianca back, "Wait."

Bianca turned around slowly, dreading what she knew Wyatt was about to say.

Wyatt smirked and gestured at her. "Follow me,"

A lump formed in Bianca's throat. "Yes . . . master."


	4. Memory

**Leigh1986: **Thanks, I'm glad you think that! But that's probably only because there are so few Chris/Bianca stories out there . . . (sigh) it's very sad. I've actually created a C2 community for Chris/Bianca fics called _Star Crossed _. . . if you find other good ones, please let me know. Enjoy the chapter!

Thanks to **DrewFullerFanLife **for the review!

Aww . . . I'm a bit disappointed. There are less and less reviews as the story progresses, which in my opinion, gets better and better with each chapter. This makes me sad. Why don't you leave a review and cheer me up? (wink) Enjoy!

* * *

Chris couldn't have been happier. 

The rate of successful mission has skyrocketed, and the Resistance has become more than just a mere thorn in Wyatt's side. Chris really believed that they were really starting to make a lasting impact. Word of the work they do have been spreading despite Wyatt's avid attempts to squash the rumors. The result of this has been more recruits into their Resistance, some relocating to San Francisco to join them in the main fight, and others forming their own Resistance in their own respective areas.

After all, slow and steady always wins the race.

More importantly, hope, even a fraction of it, has been restored. Hope would be their main weapon, their strength.

Though Chris hated to admit it, their success is owed deeply to Bianca, who's accurate and important Intel allowed them to stop many of Wyatt's plans, further slowing his takeover and beginning to set him back a little.

He still doubted Bianca's motives, but he had to admit that she has been nothing but a great help ever since becoming a mole. Still, Chris never allowed her inside the Resistance itself, and probably never will, unless the fight ends in their lifetime.

"_Chris!" _

He jumped up suddenly, flinching at the loud disoriented voice. He rubbed his ear with his finger, whining, "Why'd you yell for?"

Penelope, as her shape materialized and the orbs disappeared, looked irritated. "I've been calling for you for _five minutes._ That athame of yours just turned coal black."

"Damn, she works fast. Or should I say, Wyatt works fast?" Chris mumbled, hastily coveringhis boxerswith his blanket in embarrassment. He had been in the process of waking up when he'd been hit with a major self reflection whammy, still overjoyedabout their major breakthrough mission success the night before.

Pen merely nodded at his remark. "Wyatt's going to have to have to retaliate after yesterday, right?

"I guess."

The cousins were silent for a moment, Pen's foot tapped on the stone floor impatiently. "Well?" she scowled finally, "Are you going to meet her?"

"Not without pants, I'm not," Chris replied sarcastically, indicating to the blanket. "Do you mind?"

"Oh!" Pen's face flushed red, her freckles standing out even more, "Yes, I mean, no, I mean . . . gone."

Chris smirked. Even as she was orbing out, he could see that her face was still red from embarrassment.

His wrinkled his nose in distaste at the remaining clothes in his closet. Most of the pants were extremely ripped and dirty. Sighing sadly, Chris knew that if his mother were alive, she'd given him a major scolding about cleanliness. Sure, he could have sewn the ripped parts, but Chris had been so busy lately, he had no time. Right now, all he cared about was getting the job done.

So, after throwing on a pair of his least torn jeans, Chris telekinetically called his athame from its hiding spot under the bed to his hand before orbing out to meet Bianca.

* * *

Bianca was sitting patiently on the bench, managing not to instinctively flinch when she heard the chimes of a whitelighter's orbs. In fact, now that she thought about it, it was a rather nice sound, soothing in its own way. Personally, Bianca preferred shimmering. It was quicker, quieter, and sleeker, more fit for an assassin. The loud chimes of orbing would alert the prey to the hunter's presence. It could also get annoying, especially if it's been a bad day. 

Today was not that day.

"Hello, Chris," she greeted the forming orbs curtly. They had both gone beyond their meetings being all about stiffness and suspicion, although Bianca knew the young leader was rightfully reluctant to give her any information about him and the Resistance.

Not that it mattered. He and his renegades were just a means to an end. What did Bianca care about the location of the Resistance? She needed their recourses and their uncanny ability to succeed on missions, and they needed Intel on Wyatt.

"Bianca," he inclined his head to her, polite but with a friendly air.

Once the youngest Halliwell boy was fully formed in front of her, Bianca opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by having a body fall on her.

Chris was smashing her under his weight, catching Bianca so off guard that she fell backwards into the stone statue, bruising her shoulder.

"Chris? _Chris!_" Bianca shouted, shaking him, utterly confused and slightly panicked. "Get a hold of yourself!"

But it seems that he couldn't. Chris's entire body was shaking, twitching jerkily, his facial expression contorted.

Finally, when he stopped trembling, and his vision refocused itself, he stared at Bianca as if he had just finally truly seen her.

"What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?" Bianca demanded, uneasiness in her eyes betraying her cold demand.

Chris shook his head, clearing his head of what had just happened. His mind raced; this couldn't possibly be happening.

Premonition wasn't supposed to be his power.

Or was it a premonition? It seemed to be more of a flashback. But then, hadn't Aunt Phoebe been able to do that too as part of her premonition power?

He tried to block out the images skittering through his mind, but found that he could not.

"_That's right, Bianca, steady your hand," A blonde haired woman encouraged her nine year old daughter with loving care in her tone._

"_But Mommy," Bianca whined, her focus temporarily off her target, "Do I have to hit Teddy?" _

_Lynn stared at her daughter sternly_. _"Don't you think you're a little old for stuffed animals? Your grandmother was right; I should have started training you earlier. All the other kids in the Coven have already made their first kill. Remember what I said before?"_

"_Let go of all emotions, nothing matters but the kill," Bianca repeated from memory in a monotone, looking bored, "And, you always said I was a fast learner –I'll be the best Phoenix assassin of them all!" _

_Unable to resist her daughter's innocent enthusiasm, Lynn rumpled Bianca's hair lovingly. "I'm sure you will. Now concentrate." _

_Just as Bianca locked her eyes fiercely with the teddy bear's black ovals, prepared to throw the athame, she sensed another person entering their home, instead directing the athame in the direction of the intruder._

_Bianca's grandmother, with her quick reflexes, caught the incoming athame between her fingers, startling Bianca, who turned to her mother. "Can you teach me that next?" _

_Lynn put a finger to her daughter's mouth to silence her, instead greeting the new guest. _

"_Hello Mother," Lynn greeted, a slight stiffness in her voice. _

"_Lynn," Her mother replied. Even as an old lady, she still retained a powerful, commanding and youthful aura. "And how's my granddaughter?" she smiled toothily at Bianca, the hard lines on her faceallowing little affection to shine through.  
__  
Bianca smiled back at her grandmother, having accepted long ago that her grandma would never be the kind little old ladies that sat their grandchildren on their laps and told comforting stories._

_Although, her grandmother did tell her of their Coven's many major achievements and kills. She supposed that counted. _

"_What is your mother teaching you now, Bianca?" _

_Bianca beamed with pride. "I'm working on perfecting my accuracy, hitting a certain spot on the body." _

"_Oh?" Her grandmother didn't seem that interested in that response, but her eyebrows raised inquisitively during her next question, one that Bianca felt was the real reason she had come, "And how many jobs have your mother taken you on?"_

"_None so far," Bianca replied. _

_Her grandmother smiled, but it looked forced. Her eyes flickered for a moment to Lynn, who resisted the urge to flinch under the Matriarch of the Coven's scrutinizing gaze. _

"_Lynn," she said sternly, her eyes cold, "I thought you said you were taking Bianca on the last job." _

_Lynn raised her head defiantly, staring into her mother's eyes with equal vigor, "I was, but I felt that Bianca wasn't ready yet. She's too young," _

_The Matriarch growled in frustration. "Lana took Claire on her first kill when she was seven! You cannot protect the girl just because she is half human! She is just as good a Phoenix as any, if not better! Her half blood should drive her to surpass her Coven sisters and brothers, not be below them!"_

_This hit Lynn hard, but as trained, she kept her emotions distant. "All right, mother."_

_Her mother smiled, satisfied to see that she had gotten through to Lynn. "Take her on the new job." _

_She shimmered out._

"_I'm going on my first kill?" Bianca asked, a grin spreading across her face in excitement. She had heard stories from her cousins; saw their proud faces, wanting to be able to have stories to tell too._

_Lynn nodded reluctantly. "But let's finish this exercise first. Now, concentrate."_

_But Bianca couldn't. A question she had always wanted to ask loomed over her until it finally burst out of her mouth._

"_Mom? When you kill . . . what do you feel?" _

_Lynn stopped in her tracks. Pain washed over her face as she remembered the past, remembered the people she had killed because of her way of life, because of her destiny. _

"_Nothing," she lied, "You don't feel a thing."_

"_Okay, Mommy," Bianca, now refocused, accepted that reply, not knowing that later on in her life, the lie will become evident. She aimed the athame, and threw it, the sharp point slicing through the air and striking exactly in the center of one of Teddy's black oval eyes._

Chris stared at the grown up woman in front of him. Was that somewhat innocent girl really the killer in front of him?

She was more like him that he originally thought. They were both born into a line with a destiny, one that determines their life before they were even born.

Bianca was destined to be a killer, Chris was destined to help innocents, and both were at the expense of their own lives and desires.

To tell the truth, he'd never thought of evil in that way. He was never sure Bianca was evil in the first place. She always seemed far more human than a mere demon; she had more than just a desire and purpose to live and kill.

She wanted to be happy, and knew that she could never be that unless she was out of Wyatt's grasp.

And now Chris knew the truth. She really was human, just like him, for his Grandpa was a mortal. He had always treasured that normal part of him; it was always the thing that kept him sane in his insane life.

As it seems, Bianca's human half was what compelled her to survive.

Both of them needed that mortal part of them.

"Why the hell are you looking at me like that?" Bianca hissed, shoving an embarrassed Chris off her.

"I'm sorry . . . I think I had a premonition or something," Chris explained. He didn't go into detail though; he wasn't sure how Bianca would react to him seeing images of her past, and he guessed it wouldn't be good. He himself felt a little intrusive, though involuntarily so, by seeing her memories.

But Bianca refused to be distracted. "What'd you see?" she snapped, a slight blush creeping up her neck. She didn't know _why _she was blushing though. It was Chris who had been twitching like he'd been hit with bug spray, not her.

Before Chris could think of a plausible lie, he collapsed backwards onto the ground.

Bianca sighed impatiently. "Must you always fall?" she asked dryly, but her expression changed when she saw his state. He was staring at his hands, which were clammy and twitching uncontrollably. Chris was also sweating profusely, blinking fiercely as if trying to get a stray eyelash out.

"H –Help." He moaned, holding his head in his hands, shuddering even more violently.

"It's okay, it's going to be okay," Bianca assured him, trying to keep the uncertainty out of her voice. She was freaked out by Chris's behavior. As a Phoenix, she's never seen anyone have a premonition, but she seriously doubted this is how one reacted.

Leaning down to Chris's side, her hands paused over him, unsure what to do. All she knew in the field of healing was dressing a wound, not twitching and magically induced premonitions. How could she help? She was an assassin, not a healer.

So she has to bring him to a healer.

But where?

"Chris," she called. "Chris, you have to listen to me. Where is the Resistance base? Or, better yet, where are the whitelighters?"

Chris continued to tremble, finally managing to spurt out, "Can't. Tell. You."

Bianca screamed in frustration. "I _need _to get you help Chris! Tell me right now!"

"N –No."

"Dumbass!" she fumed.

There was no choice. Bianca would have to take him to her apartment, and hope that she can produce a spell that wouldn't warn Wyatt of Chris's presence if he sensed for Bianca.

Wrenching Chris's hands away from his head, Bianca shimmered both of them out. She would have to find a way to contact the Resistance, send them a signal besides chalking the athame black.

As she shimmered them both into her bedroom, Bianca carefully laid Chris into it and made him as comfortable as she possibly could. As she stared at his twitching body with a raised eyebrow, Bianca knew she was stumped.

What the hell was she supposed to do?

Well, she supposed she could just leave him there to his twitching and attempt to get some healers there.

"Don't. Just. Leave. Me!" Chris gasped out as he managed to gather enough strength to speak.

Bianca spread her arms out wide helplessly. "Do I look like a nurse to you?"

But Chris resumed twitching, so she just shrugged it off and went to summon some proper medical assistance.

* * *

Chris was in pain. He could see flashes of the past, mostly, but they all came by so fast that his brain didn't have time to process all of them. 

In between the surges of agony, Chris realized that someone was doing this to him. It was like that story his Aunt Phoebe had told him one time, about Aunt Prue and how she got the empathic power.

It almost killed her.

He was sure this is what the premonition power was doing to him.

But what confused him the most was the fact that most of the memories were Melinda's. He had gotten that taste of Bianca's past because he'd touched her, but all of his cousin's memories were there, and he hasn't even seen her in _years. _Wyatt always hid Melinda in some place.

But now he was getting flashes of Melinda's own life, and he finally discovered how Wyatt had turned his cousin to the side of evil.

Fear.

"_I want Mommy!" Melinda cried out, tears falling down her sooty face._

"_Your mommy's been dead for two years, little girl. I'd suggest you start accepting it and moving on. Or I'll be . . . forced . . . to keep on doing this until you break." The demon hissed cruelly before backhanding her face hard. _

_Melinda bit her lip, weeping bitterly. _

Pen . . . Chris . . . Prue . . . why didn't you save me?

"_Because they don't love you,"_

_She looked up slowly, her entire twelve year old body trembling as she locked eyes with her oldest cousin, Wyatt Halliwell. _

"_You're lying!"_

"_No I'm not," Wyatt replied patiently, speaking to Melinda as if she were a five year old. _

_The demon punched her nose hard, and Melinda could feel a definite crack as a sharp pain caused her eyes to water even more. But after hours of torture, she was beginning to feel so numb that the pain didn't last for long, though she could feel the shattered bones in her nose. _

_He turned to the demon angrily, yelling, "Why the hell did you do that?"_

"_You –You wished me to torture her, sir," he stammered, fear reflecting in his coal black eyes. _

"_I didn't wish you to shatter bones! Merely breaking them would suffice." With that, Wyatt formed an energy ball, sending it at the demon, causing it to combust in flames. He reached a hand out and only healed Melinda's nose. _

_Wyatt leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling menacingly. "I can make it stop, Melinda. If you join me, we can avenge our mothers."_

"_No . . . you aren't my cousin. You killed those people. I hate you!" _

_He flinched slightly from the venom in the preteen's voice, but retained his composure, his face determined._

"_You'll see things my way soon enough . . ." Wyatt stated, regret laced in his voice. He called for another torture demon and left her. _

_Melinda closed her eyes shut, preparing herself for the next blow, all the while wondering where her other cousins and sister could be, hoping against hope that her family would come for her soon._

Chris trembled even more, wondering where the hell Bianca had gone. As Melinda received each blow, Chris felt like he was being hit along with her.

And he couldn't help but feel like he deserved it. A guilty knot only intensified his pain, which had now spread to giving him a major migraine, reminding him of his failure, of how he couldn't save Melinda.

He had left her to bear the pain alone.

Now, he was getting some distinct form of vengeance in the form of her memories.

Then, it occurred to him that Melinda was probably the one behind all of this.

Bracing himself for another flashback, Chris cursed the Phoenix and tried to send her some sort of mental "hurry up" message before succumbing into another one of his lost cousin's memories.

"Damn it!" Bianca cursed; she had tried everything she could to contact the Resistance. Unfortunately, she had been foolish and didn't plan as well as she should have; now she had no way to send _them _out to her.

It had never occurred to Bianca that she would ever need the Resistance to come to her aid, or at least, to the aid of their leader, who was unable to orb himself down to them.

Not willing to admit defeat, Bianca wondered if Chris had come to some kind of conclusion as to why this is happening. She'd done everything she could. Bianca had put up an even stronger protection spell, so all she had to do now was break this spell.

Sitting on the side of the bed, she stared into Chris's green eyes, now clouded and crazed. She'd never seen the leader so vulnerable. He usually had a cold, polite mask whenever they met.

Today, Bianca saw weakness.

Staring into Chris's eyes, Bianca was startled to feel his sweaty, clammy hands groping for hers. Surprising even herself, she allowed him to hold her hand, even squeezing it reassuringly.

Bianca knew that if she waited long enough, perhaps Chris would let her on to some clue as to how to stop this.

After all, he _was _the son of a Charmed One.

Bianca's acute senses picked up a faint sputtering of words coming from Chris.

"M –Me . . ."

"Me?" Bianca asked quizzically, even though she knew Chris probably wouldn't answer. His confusing remark didn't help Bianca much in being able to help him.

"Melinda," Chris's raspy voice choked out, his eyes locking with Bianca's for a moment, a sure sign that he was giving her the identity of the one doing this to him.

Bianca's eyebrows rose. "The Halliwell girl? Melinda Halliwell?"

Chris couldn't give her an answer, but she was sure that's what he had meant. It _has _to be.

"I'll be back," Bianca assured Chris, prying her hand away from his, and shimmered out, knowing now exactly what she had to do to stop Melinda's voodoo magic.

* * *

_Melinda had gone without food for what felt like an eternity. _

_By this time, she was no longer Melinda anymore._

_Her mind was filled with images, her own imaginary world she had taken shelter in during the time of her captivity._

_But now, Wyatt had used his magic to force Melinda out of her comfort zone, forcing her to accept reality, to accept the cold darkness around her. _

_The torch lights in the cell did nothing to lessen the emptiness of the room. Its flames flickered at all hours, the shadows dancing across the walls. The crackling of the fire was deafening in the silence. _

_Melinda couldn't take it anymore. Reality was too hard. She could feel herself slipping away, the girl she once was and clung on to was begin stripped away to join her mother in death . . . _

_Laughing at the situation, a crazed maniacal look in her eyes, Melinda called for Wyatt._

"_Have you thought about it?" Wyatt asked casually._

_Melinda nodded, still giggling, "Yes." _

_Her oldest cousin smiled. "I'll take good care of you Melinda. You won't have to see the rough process of the takeover. Inside the Manor, you will be safe from _them. _Will you help me achieve this goal?_" _Wyatt asked as he used his telekinesis to untie the ropes from Melinda, positioning his hand over Melinda, a black glow emitting from his hands as he healed his cousin with dark magic._

_Fully healed, Melinda smiled crazily at her cousin. "If I help you with the takeover, you will help me get revenge on the traitor cousins and sister." _

_It was not a question._

_Wyatt smiled, pleased that Melinda bought his earlier lie. "Yes. Together, we'll restore the name of the Halliwell line that my dear brother has so horribly tainted." _

* * *

Melinda laughed as she felt her cousin twisting and writhing in pain. The only downside to this particular curse was that someone of the victim's blood has to keep on giving blood every fifteen minutes, so unless you had a bunch of relatives in tow, the spell wouldn't last that long. 

But as it seems, these particular memories were hitting Chris hard, and he would soon die of exhaustion.

She never meant to give him her memories; he was supposed to get the memories of the one closest to him with the most skeletons in their closet.

As it seems, the blood tie between them as well as the things Melinda witnessed when she was younger far surpassed anyone Chris had been near at the time.

Wyatt wouldn't approve of this plan, Melinda knew that. He wanted to keep his brother alive, his sentiment for him and reluctance to kill this particular soul has slowed their progress tremendously.

Chris was Wyatt's weakness.

Her cousin would be pleased to know that Melinda was ridding him of that weakness.

Suddenly, she felt faint. Holding the bleeding hand to her head, Melinda decided that she needed to rest, just for a little.

After all, she couldn't give blood if she was unconscious, could she?

A few beats after Melinda closed the door, Bianca shimmered into her secret room, glancing around coldly.

Finding exactly what she was looking for, Bianca kicked Melinda's cauldron over with all the force she could exert, causing it to crack.

Satisfied that Melinda's and the Manor's source of power was gone, Bianca shimmered back to Chris's side, who gasped and sat up straight as he was released from the spell.

"Easy does it," Bianca encouraged as she handed him a glass of water.

"Thanks," he rasped.

"No problem." Bianca replied, smiling, feeling relieved that he was okay.

Chris shook his mop of brown hair vigorously, trying to get Melinda's memories out of his head. "I saw Melinda's memories, what Wyatt did to her . . . it was horrible. And I couldn't save her from it . . ."

He wasn't sure why he was telling _Bianca_ this, but he felt like he had to say it out loud.

"You could have done nothing to prevent it." Bianca told him truthfully, "When Wyatt wants something, he usually gets it."

"Not anymore," Chris shot back defiantly, his green eyes flashing, "Not anymore."


	5. Bond

Hey you guys, thanks for the reviews! It really lifted my spirits for this story. I am _so _sorry it took so long to update. I was all inspired, so I even wrote out part of the chapter on vacation, and was almost done typing it too, when my computer's hard drive crashed, so I lost all of my work and couldn't get online for a while. So I apologize for the extremely long wait. Hopefully this extra long (and hopefully good) chapter will make up for it.

Sorry, there isn't so much of Bianca in this chapter, except at the end, and will focus more on the relationship of the family. But the rest of the five chapters of this story will have the progression in the Chris/Bianca relationship. Enjoy, and please review! (I swear I'll update sooner . . . as long as my computer doesn't crash again.)

* * *

Chris didn't dare breathe. He could see his own fear stricken eyes reflected in his brother's. He couldn't believe –_refused _to believe that it would end so soon, like this. Wyatt would have another sin staining his heart, on his beloved sword, and Chris would never get the chance to save his brother from himself. 

The tip of Excalibur was just a centimeter away from Chris's throat. He could feel the sword's cold, metallic point, poised and ready to sever his head from the rest of his body.

Staring up at his brother's eyes, once so blue and pure, Chris could see how far gone Wyatt was. His eyes sparkled manically, and he knew that Wyatt was high off of Chris's fear. Even in this moment, even as his own impending doom was staring him straight in the eye, Chris could only think of one thing:

_I will save you, big brother. _

Closing his eyes for a moment, away from Wyatt's wall of ice, Chris wondered how the hell the day ended up like this.

* * *

"Bullshit. That's complete bullshit." 

Chris sighed as he glanced at his cousin, her arms crossed in a defensive stance, her voice and expression cold and stubborn.

"C'mon, Pen. Maybe there's still hope –he may want to fix things."

Penelope Halliwell stared back at her cousin in disbelief. "You, of all people, Chris, should know your brother better than that. Actually, I'm insulted that he thinks we're stupid enough to fall for this."

Chris shrugged, his tone flat and bitter. "You can't blame me for hoping."

His cousin's expression softened. "We'll get him back, Chris, I promise."

"Eventually," he agreed grimly.

He checked his old sports watch for a second, then got up towards the door.

"Where are you going?" Penelope asked, "Please don't tell me it's to negotiate with Wyatt."

Chris shook his mop of brown hair. "I'm going to talk with one of my demonic contacts –see if this rumor is for real."

Pen opened her mouth to protest, but against her better judgment she closed it. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, we don't want to expose _two _part whitelighters."

But Penelope refused to let it go, her argumentive side taking over. "At least ask Brian or someone to go with you."

Chris sighed inwardly. "I'm meeting with Zankou. You know he's big in the Underworld movement against Wyatt. He trusts me as much as I trust him so I have to go alone. I'll be okay; we're meeting in neutral territory."

Penelope didn't look convinced. She never liked Chris's dealings with demons, especially Zankou, who was so powerful and threatening that the last Source had locked him away. Renegade demons opposing Wyatt's rule released him, hoping that Zankou would save them from Wyatt. Pen didn't like him, but like it or not they share a common enemy, and Zankou's been able to help them stock up on magical supplies.

"Why don't you just contact Bianca?" Pen asked. She liked Bianca way better than any of Chris's demonic contacts –at least she was a witch. An _assassin _witch, but a witch.

Chris closed his eyes, a sign that he was trying not to be annoyed by Penelope's nagging. She recognized this look dating back to when she was a little kid, begging Chris to let her have one more of his mom's delicious cookies.

"I can't rely on Bianca for everything. It'll blow her cover."

Chris's words about their collaboration with Bianca early in the beginning came back to Pen.

"Isn't she just a means to an end?" she asked, her voice accusing.

Chris was silent. He looked as if Pen had slapped him, his posture rigid and his mouth hard. Then, his expression neutralized and his expression became blank again. Chris shrugged and said, "She hates Wyatt just as much as we do; we have to take care of our contacts so we'll still have some later on. Otherwise, we're operating blind."

Chris smiled as he saw a reluctant acceptance in Penelope's eyes.

"Fine," she said stiffly, "Don't get killed."

"That's the idea," Chris replied good naturally. This was their little routine. Despite the great risk that death is a huge possibility, they both knew that they would have gone insane if every single moment of thought was devoted to how close they were to being caught. A small dose of paranoia and neuroticism was needed to ensure that there are no back doors into the base, in order to keep them and all of the witches and magical creatures in their care safe.

In fact, Chris recalled an argument he had with Finnegan, a concerned leprechaun.

"_The leader of the Resistance mustn't go off on his own and deal with demons by himself! How will you lead if you're dead or captured?" _

"_I'm a hands on kind of guy,' he replied. _

_Finnegan glared at him sternly, examining him. Finally he sighed, and his gaze softened. "You are capable, I suppose. Just be careful." He suddenly smiled a wide grin, his eyes clouded in reminiscence, "You're just like your mother. Look just like her too. Your mother and aunts were great witches, great people. They'd be proud." _

_Chris was touched by this. But it also opened up unhealed wounds; he never really got over their deaths. _

"_Thanks Finnegan," he managed to stutter out before excusing himself to meet with his contact._

"_Poor boy, seeing so much suffering . . ." Chris heard Finnegan mutter to himself as his vision blurred and he was taken up in the warmth of orbing. _

"I've got to go –can't be late." Chris said, his voice echoing on "late" as he disappeared into the familiar sensation of blue orbs.

He reformed in the Underworld, the only "public" place where Wyatt can't sense them. This place was also protected with wiccan, whitelighter, and demonic magic so that only those who knew where it was could find it.

"Hello Christopher!"

Chris resisted from rolling his eyes. He had no idea where Zankou got his cheerfulness from. _No _demon should ever be that cheerful. Zankou was a sly one though; he changed his mask of expression as quickly as it takes to conjure a fireball.

Now his broad, welcoming smile neutralized, making him strictly business now.

"I assume you want to know about Wyatt's supposed negotiations?" Zankou asked.

"That'd be nice," Chris agreed.

Zankou reached a hand out. "You have my dragon's egg?"

Chris nodded and reached into the tattered school bag on his shoulder, taking out the large dragon egg he'd spent days crouched in a slimy swamp to get.

After being handed the egg Zankou inspected it with an appreciative smile.

"Thank you. This will help me a great deal. Was it messy to get?"

Chris recalled the squishy, disgusting mud, the various magical non magical creatures he had to avoid, and feeling of hot air from the dragon's breath. He still had some singed hairs.

"Yeah. It was." he answered dryly.

Zankou smiled. "Well, I thank you. Anyway, about your brother, it's a sham. It's just some half hearted jab at you or perhaps something else. But, from what I've heard, a _real _threat is coming. This was meant to get your guard down, make you think that he's underestimating you. My source says that Wyatt has sweatshops that are run by witches."

Chris nodded. The Resistance has known about these sweatshops for some time. They had a few members who were escapees of one. Unfortunately, they are too well guarded and they haven't been able to successfully take it down.

"Wyatt's going to start burning witches."

Chris did a double take. Did he hear Zankou right? "Excuse me?"

"Witch burnings, you know, like the Salem Witch Trials? Well, this time, there's no trial, there's no judge except one of their own. Just burning. He's blackmailing you, Christopher; he wants you to come to him, in exchange for the lives of the workers."

"Doesn't he need them?" Chris was surprised at how even his voice was; his heart was beating a heck of a lot faster than it should.

Zankou shook his head. "He can always get more, or get demons or magical creatures to replace them."

Chris closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself. What was this coming to? Wyatt was going to be the executioner of his own kind.

"Looks like I have no choice, then," Chris muttered to himself. There was no way he'd let all those innocents die. Better now while they're still strong anyway. Nobody wanted to say it, but the Resistance was getting desperate. Wyatt's forces were taking over everywhere, and even though he and Bianca had taken down the probe factory, there were still plenty around. Something had to be done _soon_, or all will be lost.

Zankou looked at him almost pityingly. "Yes, it is, isn't it? Good luck." With that, the demon shimmered out. Chris wasn't surprised that Zankou hadn't offered to help. They were allies, but strained ones at that. Besides, Zankou had no desire to die, and he needed whatever followers he had. Even with a tyrant ruling the city, Zankou, like a typical demon, had only one thing in mind: ruling the Underworld and, if he got ambitious, the world.

Chris snorted. Like that would happen anytime soon. He already had a vanquishing potion for Zankou that he had gotten off his blood a while ago. The potion, with a pretty darn powerful spell, should finish the demon off, if not weaken him considerably to be killed with more brutal devices, like an athame.

Knowing now what radical actions Wyatt was willing to take now to bring the resistance down, Chris knew that the climax of the struggle would soon come. And when that time came, he'd be ready. In fact, he'd initiate it.

That's it. Chris's mind was made up. Instead of hiding and waiting for Wyatt to bring the fight to them, _he'd _bring the fight to Wyatt.

With that thought in mind, he orbed out.

* * *

"ARE YOU _CRAZY!" _

Chris flinched slightly at Penelope's shrilly tone. She sounded so much like his Aunt Paige. That was _exactly _how she had yelled at Chris when he'd tried an experiment involving the toaster, a blanket, a pair of scissors, and a match. Needless to say, Chris had gotten what he wanted: to see how big of an explosion it would cause.

It was big.

"CHRIS! DO YOU _WANT _TO DIE? DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH? _ARE YOU SUICIDAL? _'CAUSE IF YOU ARE, I AM GOING TO PUT YOU IN A STRAIGHTJACKET UNTIL –"

"Do you mind lowering your voice?" Chris yelled back at her, although his yell compared to _her _yell was a whisper.

"MIND? DO I _MIND?_"

"Yes," Chris answered patiently. When she was little, Penelope had been quite the tantrum thrower. He'd learned to tune her out and let her blow off her steam. It'd end eventually; it always does.

"Hey," a voice came from behind Chris.

"Hi," he greeted, grateful to her another voice other than his cousin's.

"What's she yelling about?" Brian asked, cocking his head at the shrieking Halliwell, who was now seething about how Chris wasn't listening to her.

Chris hesitated, unsure of how many people should know about his plan. Of course, probably half of the population already knows, thanks to Penelope.

"I'm planning on raiding the Manor." He decided to say. Straightforwardness always worked.

Brian's eyebrows furrowed, but other than that, he didn't show any emotion. "You think that's a good idea? I mean, what do you expect to come out of it?"

Chris's eyes were serious. "Listen, my source tells me that Wyatt is planning on witch burnings. And we're all getting tired and running out of resources. I think this is it. We have to hit them strong before they hit us weak."

"Well, if you're _really _going to go on this suicide mission, then I'll go with you,"

Both Chris and Brian turned around, surprised. Penelope had stopped yelling long ago, and now she was looking at the both of them with an insane fire in her eyes, her mouth tight in determination.

Chris remembered seeing that look on Aunt Paige every time they were about to tackle a big demon.

He saw that look on her face before facing the demon that would kill her.

Instantly worried now, Chris shook his head, "No, Pen, you're not going."

"Why _not_?" Penelope snarled, "I'm just as good a fighter as you. Plus," she walked closer to the two of them, "it's _my _home too. I should be there when we take it back."

"You have a lot of confidence in this 'suicide mission'." Brian muttered, weighing the risk and the reward for this type of mission. If both of the last fighting Halliwells went and . . . died, the Resistance would surely crumble. But, if both their powers combined were able to defeat Wyatt, or at least weaken him greatly, it would give them the opening that they need to finally take control away from the dictatorship.

Chris was also conflicted. He couldn't bear to see another one of his family members die. On the other hand, he _could _use Pen's help, and she was right. It was her home just as much as his, and they would conquer it back as true Halliwells, not as intruders.

"Fine," he consented grudgingly, "You're coming."

But Brian protested, "Wait! What if you fail? Aren't you going to tell the rest of the Resistance? If you go, everything is riding on this."

Chris nodded grimly. "I know. But I just . . . have this _feeling _that I need to do this now. Can you tell them? I know a lot of them wouldn't approve."

Brian frowned. "Don't you want me to come with you, though?"

"No," Chris shook his head, "This is going to be a Halliwell thing."

"What, so you're adapting Wyatt's ideas now, that whole I'm A Halliwell So I'm The Greatest?" Brian demanded, his eyes flashing.

Penelope stepped in, anger and indignation blazing in her eyes and voice, "What the hell is your problem, Brian? We're trying to win this war. Do you _want _witches to be burned at the stake?"

Brian's eyes narrowed. "Of course not. I'm just saying –"

But Penelope interrupted him, snapping back, "Well don't say it! Did you forget that we helped organize this damn Resistance? You guys were scattered until we came!"

"Doesn't look like we're doing any better now," Brian shot back. "We had success for a while, but everybody knows we're running out of resources and time . . ."

Chris was watching this exchange bitterly. Did they all think the way Brian did? And Brian was probably one of the members more closer to the cousins, so this worried Chris. He knew they were nearing the end of their endurance, but the fact that people were already beginning to lose hope . . . that really worried him.

Brian was right; everything really did ride on this mission.

"Stop it."

Both of them stopped arguing and turned towards Chris out of respect. He eyed both of them seriously. Addressing Brian first, he said, "Look. We're not like my brother. We want him to stop him just as much as the rest of you do, if not more because of personal reasons. Pen didn't mean that none of you did your part; you all did and started the Resistance long before anyone in our family even realized how far gone Wyatt was. We were blind to something you already knew. But we need to do this. I really do think that only a Halliwell can stop another one. We know Wyatt, and are better equipped to fight him. So please, don't tell the Resistance about it if . . . until we come back."

Brian nodded, all the anger he had before dissipating as everything got back down to business. He really didn't know why he had been so . . . pissed. He trusted Chris and Pen, he really did, but truthfully, he never got over the fact that their family was the one who had ravaged San Francisco, the world, like this. But every time he thought these thoughts he would always remember the Charmed Ones' legacy, and all the good the Halliwells had done in their long history.

It just so happened that this time, with their rations diminishing and everyone stressed out, he lashed out at Penelope. With Chris, he might have frowned at Brian's outbursts, but he'd be patient with him. Unfortunately, Penelope was argumentive by nature and it got a little out of hand.

"Ok," Brian accepted reluctantly, grinding his teeth. He had a bad feeling about this, but he knew nothing he said could stop them. They were both just as stubborn as Wyatt.

Chris offered him a thankful look. "Thanks. See you later, I guess." He then nodded to his cousin, who said goodbye to Brian and followed her cousin to the potions room.

Brian stood there in indecision for a moment, before bursting out, "Wait!"

The Halliwell cousins turned around. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you don't want any back up?" he asked, genuinely worried and attempting to reconcile for what he had said earlier.

It wasn't Chris who answered him, but Penelope. "No, we'll be fine. Thanks though," she smiled at him. Pen wasn't mad at him anymore. She knew everyone was one edge. Besides, in the world they lived in, they couldn't afford to have petty fights when there are _real _battles to deal with.

"Good luck,"

The cousins nodded and went to stock up on potions and weapons.

* * *

Melinda was thoroughly annoyed. She found that once her cauldron had been broken by _someone_, her power was gone. Her source of power was the cauldron, and she was nothing now that she was gone. 

She screamed out in frustration as she kicked over an unfortunate chair. She was nothing . . . _nothing _without power. And her damn mother didn't have offensive powers, so she never received any powers of that sort. Her magic relied on that cauldron, since her mother's power of premonition and empathy never developed in her. God, sometimes she hated her mother for the weakling she was. Wyatt had told her once of the story of Cole, her mother's demonic ex-husband, whom she had vanquished twice.

In Melinda's opinion, her mother, Phoebe, should have stayed with Cole. Maybe Melinda would have at least inherited some demonic powers instead of being stuck with nothing.

She knew Wyatt wasn't sure of what to do with her. Usually, when a demon or witch became useless to him, he executed them. But Melinda was of his blood, and he had always had a soft spot for family.

After all, their family was what they were trying to save. Wyatt was blind, though; he didn't have the foresight to see the potential danger Chris and Penelope posed to their mission. And threats had to be eliminated. Melinda was still peeved about how she had failed in killing Chris. She had been so _close, _so close.

Melinda gripped the chair handle so hard that the wood split in half.

Her source of power may be gone, but she felt that something was going to happen, soon. When that happened, she would be ready.

When that happened, she would be ready to finish what she started.

* * *

"Funny, isn't it?" Penelope said softly, looking up at her childhood home. 

"What?" Chris asked, although he had a good idea of what she was about to say; he was thinking it too.

Penelope sighed. "Funny how it used to be so familiar and warm, and now it's so . . . so . . ." she paused, struggling to find the right words.

"Cold and strange?" Chris finished for her.

"Yeah. Pretty much. You think he sees us?"

Chris nodded grimly, unconsciously keeping his hand towards his athame. "I'm counting on it."

Chris knew Wyatt, and Wyatt knew Chris. If it were him bringing along the Resistance, his brother would send demons after them. But since it's just them Halliwells, Wyatt will want to take care of it himself.

That's exactly what Chris wanted him to do. Suddenly, both of them experienced the queasy, nagging feeling of being forced to orb.

Before her face completely disintegrated into blue orbs, her distorted voice called, "I love you, Chris. Good luck –"

At first, Chris wondered why she was telling him this now. But as he rematerialized, with no sign of Pen, he realized that her whitelighter senses were more acute than his. She could sense that they were both being orbed to different places.

"Hello, little brother."

Chris narrowed his eyes at the distinct shadow in the corner of the preserved attic. "Hello Wyatt."

"What? You don't consider me your brother anymore?" Wyatt taunted, still cloaked in darkness.

"No."

Wyatt chuckled. "Ouch, I'm hurt, Chris. Mom would be _so _proud to hear her little boy alienate his family. After all, 'family comes first' remember?"

Chris gritted his teeth and his fists clenched tightly. "You're not family," he answered coolly, pushing his emotions beneath him. If he could still feel . . . love, pain . . . then he wouldn't be able to do what he had to do.

He had to live the lie that Bianca's mother had told her, the fact that he wouldn't feel anything when he killed his brother.

Chris had everything under control, until he saw a distinct flinch coming from Wyatt, one he could see clearly even in the darkness. He realized that his remark had hurt his brother, that Wyatt could still _feel. _

The witch-whitelighter gulped, groaning inwardly as the emotions threatened to burst, a heavy lump in his throat playing tug of war. Damn. This just made it all the harder to do what had to be done.

"Well, I guess we've both come a long way from the ways Mom taught us, huh, Chris?" Wyatt's attempt at a calm voice failed. Chris, having learned from experience, learned not to speak when you're wounded by something; no matter how hard you tried to control it, your voice will always give you away.

Oh, god. He couldn't do it. He knew right then and there that he couldn't kill_ Wyatt. _Maybe, he could destroy the dictator, the monster, but he couldn't murder his brother. By killing his brother, it would make him no better than the monster himself, that _Chris _would become the monster.

"No." he whispered quietly, to himself.

In that moment, Chris really regretted coming back home. But he knew that his Mom would be disappointed and royally pissed if he backed out now. _"Finish what you started, Chris," _she'd say.

Chris had his mind made up. He would bring Wyatt to the surface, defeat the monster, and bring his big brother back to them . . . even if it killed him.

* * *

Penelope already knew where she was going before she even fully materialized, and what would meet her, so she was ready with sword in hand. Chris preferred the traditional athame, but Penelope liked the follow through of a sword. There was only so much you could do with a short bladed athame. 

Sure enough, someone attacked her from behind. She gracefully maneuvered her sword backwards so that it pierced roughly the chest area of her attacker. A satisfying scream met her ears and Pen felt something hot behind her. As she turned around, she realized in confusion that her attacker was a demon, judging by the ashes it left behind.

Penelope had been expecting Round Two with Melinda, only to find a low level demon as her assailant. But her whitelighter senses were tingling all over, and she realized that the demon was only a distraction from the _real _danger.

_Shit! _She cursed, pivoting around to meet Melinda's crazed eyes. Her cousin seemed slightly surprised to see Penelope's quick reaction to her presence.

"Happy to see me again, cousin?" Melinda sneered.

Pen scowled. "After what you pulled with Chris? No."

"_Can you feel the love tonight?_ 'Cause I sure can't." Melinda smirked, quoting a song from their favorite DVD as kids, _Lion King. _

"And whose fault is that?" Penelope asked bitterly, swinging her sword around threateningly a couple of times.

Melinda's expression twisted. "Yours."

"No, Melinda," Pen said softly, recalling the memories Chris had experienced, recalling the pain and fear they contained. "Wyatt."

"Wyatt took care of me. Wyatt was the only relative that cared."

Pen was desperate to get her cousin to see sense. "We tried, Mel; we looked for you _everywhere. _We didn't realize until it was too late that he had you."

"Don't lie to me. Spare me the nice talk. I cut off your damn finger, how can you still stand there self righteously and try to get me to betray my cousin?"

Penelope was astounded at the illogicality of what Melinda had just said. Melinda should be amazed that Penelope wasn't out to kill her for the torture she had endured because of her. Melinda should know that it was because Pen loved her that she could forgive.

But either she couldn't remember what it felt like to be loved unconditionally, without fear, or was too stubborn to trust again.

Suddenly, without warning, Melinda lashed out. Penelope recoiled and attempted to regain her footing, ignoring the burning gash on her cheek. She stepped lightly on her feet, and got a good look at Melinda's weapon.

It was a whip, and judging from the burning sensation in her cheek, it was of the same breed as the knife she had attacked Pen with before. With a swift _crack _Melinda lashed out again, with Penelope barely dodging out of the way.

Pen was surprised; Melinda was pretty good with the whip. She must have watched _Indiana Jones _a lot. Penelope sighed. She couldn't believe that she could actually be amused at a time like this.

She knew she couldn't orb, and not for the first time Pen wished that she could shimmer. It'd be much more efficient and wouldn't be so damn slow. If she orbed, she would be exposed and vulnerable for a few seconds, enough time for Melinda to strike her down.

So, she would go on the offensive. The whip wouldn't be of much use in close range. Pen quickly grabbed a small dagger in between her fingertips and flung it at Melinda with dangerous accuracy.

Adrenaline reaching its peak, Melinda was able to _crack _her whip and knock the flying dagger away. While Melinda was distracted for a few moments, Pen ran towards her, sword in an offensive position.

Fear reflected in Melinda's widened eyes for a fraction of a second, but she was fast in defending herself, and assuming that Pen was aiming for the kill zone, she cracked her whip near her chest to intercept the blow.

But Melinda guessed wrong. Penelope aimed high and hit Melinda's head hard with the flat of her blade, knocking her out cold.

Panting from the effort, Penelope grabbed onto her injured right arm, where Melinda's whip had fractured in the last second before the blow to her head. Wincing, Pen put her sword back into its sheath and grabbed some rope that was lying around. Gritting her teeth and ignoring the pain in her arm, she tied Melinda up and gagged her. Finally, completely exhausted, Pen slumped against the wall.

_One down, one more to go, _she thought. Once she sensed Chris, her expression morphed from exhaustion to worry. Chris would have his work cut out for him, and Pen was in no condition to help.

* * *

"So we going to have one of those climatic showdowns or what?" Wyatt asked, mocking Chris's silence and stepping out of the shadows. 

Chris looked up and met Wyatt's eyes. Wyatt recoiled from the fire and intensity of those green eyes. He didn't want to admit it, but his stomach felt knotted, guilty. Chris was looking at him as if Wyatt had disappointed him, as if he had done something horrible, and that hurt him deep down.

"I will save you, Wyatt, even if I have to die to do it." Chris swore seriously, his hand hovering over his athame.

Wyatt nodded sadly. "And I will save you from your flawed ideals; although I will not die for it."

Chris stared at his brother incredulously. Did Wyatt seriously think that _Chris _needed saving?

Without warning, Wyatt created an energy ball and launched it at Chris, whose quick reflexes raised his athame into the air to block the energy ball. Once the energy ball hit the athame, it disappeared. Chris laughed at Wyatt's confusion.

"Like it, Wyatt? I developed it just for you. It negates your powers."

Wyatt cursed silently. But he was the Twice Blessed One; he didn't need any damn energy balls to defeat his brother. He gestured with his hand and Chris began choking. Unfortunately for Wyatt, Chris had kept a tight hold on his athame and resisted clutching his throat. Instead, with great strain and effort, Chris reached into his mother's potion bag and threw a serious of their strongest demon vanquishing potions at his brother. At first, it didn't do any good, but Chris got lucky and found the potion he was looking for.

That potion sent Wyatt into spasms, thus losing his concentration and releasing Chris. He gasped and coughed as sharp air was breathed into his lungs. That potion contained the blood of a half whitelighter, half witch, just like Wyatt. Chris's blood.

Quickly, Chris sat on top of his brother, making sure he was pinned down. The athame was at Wyatt's throat. He suddenly had a vague déjà vu about the situation, remembering when he and Wyatt wrestled when they were little, how Chris would sit on top of him and declare victory. It wasn't until later that Chris realized that Wyatt usually let him win.

He wasn't going to make that mistake again, thus the athame.

Wyatt smiled sadly. "So you're going to kill me, huh, Chris? Slice my throat open and watch the blood flow, like you did with Mom?"

Chris flinched and pressed the athame against Wyatt's skin so that if he made any sudden movement he'd be cut. "I tried to save her, and you know it." He hissed, blinking away the tears as he thought of how helpless he felt as he watched his mother bleed to death. "You didn't come until it was too late, and I can't heal, you know that. Dad never bothered to teach me."

But Wyatt had achieved what he wanted. Chris was distracted and not quite on edge. With a sudden burst of power, Chris was flown off of him and into the wall. With the quickness of a cat, Wyatt was on him immediately, using his telekinesis to hold Chris against the wall and using his other hand to position his sword close to his brother's face.

_Victory at last. _"I always was the better fighter, Chris."

Chris felt every second ticking off of his life. _So this is how it ends. _

* * *

Bianca shimmered into Headquarters with satisfaction. Her target was safe. If anyone had told her that she would be saving her targets instead of assassinating them and taking the bounty, she would have laughed. But now, it was a part of the bargain with Chris. All of her targets would be sent to the Resistance to care for. 

She frowned as she saw the Phoenixes and demons looking restless. She managed to weave her way through the crowd and towards her cousin Claire.

"What's going on?" she asked coolly.

Claire looked up. "Oh, you know the two renegade Halliwells, Christopher and Penelope?"

Bianca nodded, her training being the only thing keeping her face from betraying her. She determinately kept her expression neutral. "Yeah? What about them?"

"I guess they went to the Manor to end things, I guess. A demon's been saying that all the Halliwells are fighting each other."

"_WHAT?_" Bianca roared, losing her shred of self restraint. Claire raised an eyebrow, looking at her inquisitively.

Bianca thought fast, attempting to cover up for her outburst. "I mean, why isn't anybody mobilizing a rebellion? Wyatt's distracted; it'd be the perfect time to strike."

Claire shrugged and looked at Bianca as if she were a madwoman. "Are you kidding? Nobody wants to end up a pile of ash! It'd be suicide, even if Wyatt was distracted."

Nodding, Bianca pretended that she understood. What she was really thinking was "_Coward". _What happened? Their coven used to have pride, they used to be fighters. Nobody owned them. Looks like things have changed. Shaking her head in disgust once Claire turned her attention away from her, Bianca felt . . . horrible. There was a terrible knot in her stomach, and she knew something was wrong.

_Chris. _

Immediately, Bianca shimmered out. When she arrived into the attic, she absorbed the scene before her in horror. Chris's eyes widened in warning when he saw her, silently telling her to go away. But Bianca refused to let her only way out of this cowardly life die. She shimmered away to a safe area and cast a glamour spell on herself, altering her appearance into a nonexistent demon.

It was funny; ever since she had joined forces with the Resistance, with Chris, she had suddenly embraced her witch side. She had never before performed spells, and now found herself relying on one for disguise.

Bianca shimmered back in, behind Wyatt, who was completely focused on his brother. Silently creeping behind him, Bianca plunged her hand into Wyatt's back, holding him off. She was nowhere near powerful enough to suck out his powers, but she could hold him in place.

She tingled all over in pleasure as Wyatt's powers and strength slowly pulsed through her veins.

Chris, using his advantage to orb away from Wyatt, rematerialized inside the attic, but behind Wyatt this time.

His brother screamed in anger and threw Bianca off of him with a burst of power. She flew . . . and fell onto the stake of a broken table leg.

She was numb at first, but then the pain really hit her. She could see the stake in front of her, stained with her blood. It took all of her willpower to struggle and keep the glamour up.

"B –!" Chris began to shout, but stopped himself. He ran over to her, keeping a close eye on Wyatt, who was recovering.

Bianca smiled weakly. "Go. F –finish it."

Chris's eyes reflected back at her, turmoil in the stormy green pearls. "I can't leave you here to die. Not after . . ."

But Bianca snapped at him, "Damn it, Chris! Finish him and this damn war is over!"

Even though this logic made perfect sense in Chris's mind, he knew that even if he tried, he couldn't do it. He just couldn't kill his brother.

But he _could _weaken him.

Chris telekinetically raised Excalibur and plunged it into Wyatt's shoulder and threw him into a pile of boxes. He frantically reached into his potions sack and emptied the contents onto his brother, a series of power stripping potions and various vanquishing potions.

After a while, Wyatt rose, and Chris could see the potions taking effect on him. He looked ragged, tired, weakened.

"Time to go," he whispered to Bianca, and orbed them both out.

Wyatt watched his brother go, scowling and pained from the hole in his shoulder. He sensed for Melinda and felt her . . . unconscious. She had failed him, _again. _

Even when she had secretly tried to kill Chris, and failed, resulting in the loss of the cauldron, Wyatt forgave her. But now, she was of no use to him, and was starting to become a liability.

He regretted it, but he knew Melinda had to be disposed of.

Wyatt orbed in to see Melinda tied up and gagged. He assumed Pen had left already; even if she hadn't, he couldn't summon the energy to find her. Wyatt shook Melinda hard, resulting in her waking up.

"Wyatt? Did you get him?" Melinda asked.

The pissed off scowl Wyatt gave her answered her question clearly.

"You allowed her to get away?" Wyatt growled, his voice cold and merciless.

But before Melinda could answer her, she found Excalibur in her stomach. She stared up wordlessly at Wyatt as he watched her, and pulled the sword out of her, causing Melinda to cry out in agony.

"You made me do this, you know," Wyatt justified, "You betrayed me when you attempted to assassinate Chris, instead giving him more information and insight, and failed to at least capture Penelope. You disappoint me."

With that, Wyatt orbed out, leaving Melinda bleeding to death. Her breaths were ragged, and she couldn't stop shaking. Wyatt . . . Wyatt had left her!

From out of nowhere, Penelope came crawling out from her hiding space, having sensed Wyatt's coming before he materialized into the room. Tears spilled from her eyes as she frantically placed her hands over Melinda's wound, willing the golden healing glow to emit from her hands.

A pitiful, faint glow appeared for a second, but it was gone soon.

"No . . . no, damn it!" Penelope sobbed.

Melinda met her eyes in confusion. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like? Trying to save you, idiot!" Penelope bit her lip in frustration.

Melinda frowned and closed her eyes. "If you're . . . trying to get me back on your side, forget it." Penelope began to panic. Melinda's breathing seemed to take more effort; Pen was running out of time.

"No, Mel, I'm saving you because you're my cousin, because I love you. I can't . . . nobody else can die!"

"Love . . . me?" Melinda wondered out loud. Something inside her snapped, and she had a reminiscent of her childhood memories coming back to her. She remembered the good times, remembered the feeling of being safe. "I . . . I'm sorry."

Penelope's heart skipped a beat. "Wh . . . What?"

"I'm sorry, for everything."

This only brought more tears to Penelope's eyes, the familiar feeling of helplessness and despair washing over her. She felt there was really only one thing she could say to her dying cousin,

"I forgive you, for everything."

And she meant it. No matter what Melinda has done, they were still family, they were still cousins. And Melinda's attempt at reconciliation, even in the end, was proof that that bond still existed, just as it still existed with Wyatt and Chris.

Penelope jumped as a strong, shinning golden glow appeared from under her fingertips. She stared at it in wonder before coming to her senses and guiding her hand over Melinda's wounds. Soon, Melinda was completely healed.

"How?" Melinda wondered, gazing at her cousin with bright eyes, a far cry from the dead, cloudy eyes that occupied her for so many years. The monster was gone. Melinda was back.

Penelope was staring at her hands, equally awed. But she knew now; she knew the trigger for her power.

Forgiveness.

At that moment, Chris orbed in. "Pen!"

Penelope looked up at Chris, and he was surprised to see a change in her.

"How's Bianca?" she asked. Chris raised an eyebrow. How'd she know that Bianca was with him?

"With the whitelighters." His attention turned to Melinda, unbound and unscathed. "Her?"

"She's good again." Pen beamed. "I can heal!"

Chris nodded, happy for her, but he knew they had to get out of there as soon as possible. "C'mon, we'll celebrate later, we've got to go."

But a lone, soft, voice argued, "No."

Melinda looked at her cousins with serious eyes. "I need to do something, to make up for all I've done."

Chris nodded in understanding. He had a feeling that this would be the last time he'd see his cousin, but he had no power over her. He couldn't stop her.

The Halliwells exchanged hugs and said their goodbyes. Penelope whispereda few soft words into Melinda's ear, causing the younger Halliwell to smile her first true smile in years.

"Keep on fighting," Melinda told the both of them before they orbed out. Then, she squared her shoulders, gathered her courage, and went to face Wyatt.

"How are you still alive?" Wyatt asked once she entered the room.

Melinda strolled over to him casually, standing close in front of him. "My _cousin _healed me."

Wyatt nodded. "I should have known Pen was still there. There's no way she'd leave you."

"That's not what you told me," Melinda said softly, pointing an accusing finger at him.

He grabbed her finger and lowered it. "It was for your own good."

Melinda was about to retort when she gasped and felt her head rushing with images. What she saw were the things she was protected against by hiding out in the Manor. She saw pain, death, sadness, ruin, and betrayal. She saw mothers crying for the loss of their children, saw Chris debating with himself on whether or not to kill his brother, saw Penelope in her room after quickly fleeing her mother's funeral, crying her heart out in the privacy and familiarity of her room, and saw her own mother's death, from her own eyes.

She had just had her first premonition.

"You're a monster, Wyatt." Melinda told him. She saw him flinch involuntarily at the truthfulness in her tone. "But you weren't always that way. Chris remembers you as his big brother."

Wyatt's voice was bitter when he answered, "And I think of him as my little brother. But he's interfering with my rule."

Melinda shook her head. "No. _He's _trying to save you from yourself. But before he can do that, you have to fight it, I know you can."

Her eldest cousin's fists trembled. Finally, unable to stand the guilt, the pain anymore, Wyatt plunged Excalibur into his cousin for the second time that day. Melinda stared up at him with strange calm.

"He loves you. I love you. We love you. Don't forget that." She whispered. Wyatt heard, and turned away, dropping her body onto the floor.

* * *

Chris and Penelope suddenly both doubled over in pain at the Resistance Headquarters. 

"What's wrong?" Brian asked worriedly. They had just been explaining to him what happened when they suddenly had a spasm of pain.

The Halliwells looked at each other sadly. "Melinda's dead."

Far away from the ruined city of San Francisco, Prudence Halliwell fell from the air, the pain she felt deep in her heart and soul causing her to lose concentration of her levitating power.

She stared sadly outside her apartment. Her big sister was dead.

Prudence knew that it was almost time to return home.


	6. Burn

Okay, I have to admit, I was a little upset when I saw the lack of any reviews for chapter five, which I worked really hard on. It's not that I want reviews for the sake of _having _reviews, per se, but it's the feedback that I really want to hear. I want to know if the battle scenes are convincing and if the characterizations are okay, or if you feel that there's not enough of a certain thing. Hearing the reviewer's input really helps me out fill in any missing pieces of the story or fix up a plot hole that I may have left. Or maybe it's just that _Fragments _has turned me into a reviewholic. (Sighs and shakes head at my own hypocritism . . . is that even a word?) So, please do me a favor and review.

But **most importantly**, enjoy the long chapter!

* * *

"I'm sorry for your loss." 

Chris nodded slowly, his mind sluggish as he thought back to that day. He hadn't seen it, how Melinda died . . . but he had felt it in every core of his being. He _felt _Excalibur plunging through his gut, piercing his insides. Chris's lungs had strained, struggling to breathe as a lung was punctured when the blade tipped upwards, squirming inside Melinda's body.

And suddenly, it was all over. He could feel Melinda any more, and he felt empty. But at least she wasn't in pain anymore. She was Up There with Aunt Phoebe, Aunt Paige, and . . . Mom.

Chris swallowed the lump in his throat forcibly, struggling with his emotions. Bianca sat there quietly on the stone bench, her shoulder leaning slightly on the angel statue, watching the leader of the Resistance, just a _kid, _really, fresh out of college in the old, righted world, deal with the death of his cousin. Melinda had been deranged and sadistic in the times that Bianca had to be in her company, but she was willing to bet that she wasn't always like that. Chris had told her what happened after he left her to the whitelighters and went back to get Penelope. It seems that Melinda had an epiphany right before she was murdered.

Bianca knew that Chris wasn't mourning for the monster that inhabited Melinda's soul for years; he was grieving for the little kid he remembered from his childhood, for the Halliwell that emerged at the very end.

"Thanks," Chris said finally, his voice sounding thick.

"No problem," Bianca replied, her voice surprisingly soft and gentle. Her usual tone was one of sarcasm or had a hard edge and coldness to it.

Chris looked up at her, sighing. He was trying really hard to forget Melinda's death and get to what he had originally called Bianca there for. He'd intended to thank her for saving his life back at the Manor, risking her cover and her existence to save him. She'd almost died, too. The whitelighters had told Chris later that if Bianca had been taken to them any later, she may not have made it.

He really appreciated what she'd done for him, even if she _did _have an ulterior motive.

"Listen, Bianca . . . thanks, for jumping in there and saving me from . . . from my brother." He couldn't say his name, he just couldn't.

She waved her hand absently as if dismissing his thanks. "It's nothing. What, you really think I'd just _let _you die?"

Chris raised an eyebrow in surprise at this nonchalant reaction. Facing death really wasn't a big deal for an assassin, he supposed. She must face it every time she has a job to finish.

"Well, you didn't have to help me, but you did, and damn well saved my life, so I'm grateful, whether you like it or not." Chris said gruffly, unsure why he was so irritated at her all of a sudden. Maybe it was just because of how cold and detached she sounded.

Bianca was startled by this honest retort. "I'm sorry," she apologized warily, finding herself in a position where she didn't know what she was trying to say. Damn it, why was her tongue stuck in her throat all of a sudden?

She was starting to feel frustrated with how tongue tied she was becoming around Chris.

_Don't get attached, Bianca, they'll only break your heart. Use 'em and lose 'em. _

That was Bianca's mother's more simplistic explanation for one of the Phoenix Coven's top rules: no men. There were rare male Phoenix assassins, powerful witches who converted to the Phoenix Coven, although they'd never grace the blood red birthmark on their arms. But men were rare in the family of Phoenixes; the women always gave birth to girls, never boys, and thus the Phoenix women were always independent, unattached or held down by their male counterparts. When the time comes, most of the assassins would have a union with a man in order to keep the bloodline flowing into the next generation, but always disappeared after the child was conceived.

The bloodline has been mixing as of recently, though. Preferably, they had a union with a male witch, but times have been changing, and Bianca has a few part demon cousins. People like Bianca, who was half mortal, was rare. Phoenixes liked power, and to be half powerless, _normal, _was, in their opinion, a handicap.

Bianca proved them wrong. She'd worked harder than any of her Phoenix cousins, making up for her having fewer powers by beating them out in speed, strength, and cunning. She was fine with what she had now; after all, Bianca could still shimmer and produce energy balls. Bianca had no need for fancy powers like flame throwing. It would merely slow her down.

It was ironic; in the end, Bianca felt like she was the only _true _Phoenix left in the San Francisco Coven. Everyone else had become a coward, and she was the only one who was willing to risk her own life to right the world, and gain their sense of independence again.

Bianca's mother confused her, though. Well, they always were what were considered the black sheep of the family. Lynn hadn't just had a union with Bianca's father, but she had _married _him! It was a very strange occurrence, one alien to the fierce Phoenix Coven. It turns out that Lynn hadn't told her father of their Phoenix origins, and opted to try and live a normal life, one free of her bounty hunting destiny.

Closing her eyes, Bianca painfully recalled the memory of when everything went wrong, and they were forced to accept their destiny as Phoenixes.

"_Lynn, I'm home!" Lionel called from the doorway. A pale, elegant hand poked out from the kitchen, briskly waving at him to tell him that his wife had heard. _

_He scanned the room, searching for his daughter. "Bianca . . . where are you?" _

_From out of nowhere, two strong arms clung onto his legs tightly. Lionel looked down to see bright grey eyes staring up at him, some brown locks falling onto her face. Smiling widely, Bianca resisted giggling. She'd seen her Daddy come in from the corner of the room and shimmered next to him. Mommy said she shouldn't shimmer in front of Daddy, but Bianca couldn't resist surprising him, just this once. _

_She knew the weird red birthmark on her arm puzzled Daddy, and it confused Bianca too; she never really knew what it meant, but her Mommy had said it was a birthmark that strangely seemed to be passed down a lot in Mommy's family. _

_With a _click, _Lionel opened his briefcase and took out a wrapped box. Bianca's eyes widened when she saw it, releasing her dad's legs. _

_Smiling, Lionel handed the box to Bianca. "Happy birthday, Bianca. I can't believe you're four now, you're so big!" _

"_Thanks, Daddy," she answered, gently ripping off the wrapping. To her delight, she opened the box to find a cute teddy bear inside. "Thank you Daddy!" _

"_What are you going to call him? Every teddy bear needs a name," Lionel said, eyes twinkling. _

_Bianca thought for a moment. "Teddy." _

_Laughing at the simplicity of the name, Lionel kneeled down so he was looking face to face with his daughter and Teddy. "Why don't we go see what your mother's doing in the kitchen, shall we?" _

_Bianca nodded enthusiastically, having had to suffer by enduring the sweet scents coming from the kitchen but being thus unable to enter and actually _see _her birthday cake. Just as she and her father were about to make their way to the kitchen, there was a loud _bang _and sounds of something smashing hard on the floor. _

"_Lynn!" Her father rushed to the kitchen immediately, Bianca right behind him. They entered the kitchen area to see Lynn sporting a bleeding cut on her right cheek, a sharp knife in hand. But she was not alone. An elderly but strong looking woman, whose very presence radiated of youth and power, stood opposite Lynn, a strange looking dagger in her hand, poised and ready to strike. _

"_Who're you?" Lionel demanded sharply, examining the scene, and looking bewildered as to _how _that woman could have gotten into the house so suddenly. Bianca squirmed, uncomfortable, because for some reason, that woman looked familiar, and she had a funny feeling that that woman could shimmer . . . just like Bianca. _

_The woman spared a dismissive glace at Lionel, not bothering to answer his question, but her eyes lingered on Bianca. "So . . ." she said softly, her voice cold and hard, "I see you've at least upheld one part of your Phoenix duties, Lynn, although it's disgusting to see how easily you've tossed_ _your destiny away like a piece of garbage, living amongst normality." _

"_Phoenix? Lynn, what is she talking about?" Lionel asked, eyes wildly flitting from the woman to his wife, utterly confused at what was going on. _

"_Lionel . . . get Bianca out of the house. Now!" she barked fiercely, scaring Bianca. Mommy was never this angry, never . . . _

_The woman laughed. "Really, Lynn, do you _really _think I'd let them go? This is no longer just between me and you, now . . . it concerns the little one as well," she said, inclining her head at Bianca, who tried to hide herself behind her father. She was more scared then she had ever been in her life. This woman was capable of hurting her Mommy, she knew it; she could feel it. _

"_What's this about Bianca? What is going on?" Lionel asked stubbornly, determined to get answers. _

_Laughing again, this time more coldly, the stranger decided to finally answer his questions. "You do not know me, nor should you ever know me. Lynn has abandoned our Phoenix Coven to live as a normal person would does, thus dishonoring me, her mother." _

_Lynn's face was still expressionless, but a flash of shame flickered in her eyes. _

"_So, what are you, some kind of cult?" Lionel demanded, clutching Bianca's shoulder even harder. "You coming to sacrifice my daughter or something? Well, you can forget it; you'll never lay a hand on her!" _

_Bianca stared with widened eyes at her furious father, frozen mother, and smiling grandmother. "I don't want to go," she squeaked, finding her courage and her voice at last. Her voice grew stronger when she saw the slight twitch of a proud smile on the corner of her mother's lips, "I'm not leaving with you!" _

_To her surprise, instead of intimidating the woman, she actually amused her. "Well, at least you have taught her courage, Lynn, I'll give you that. Although I don't know how a _half-blood _will cope with the rest of her much more powerful cousins. You may as well have condemned her by marrying this mortal, Lynn." _

"_Mortal? What are you talking about, half-blood? What powers?" Lionel asked, again reflecting exactly what Bianca was wondering in her mind._

_Her grandmother's lips curled cruelly, as if she was about to enjoy delivering some shocking news. "Half-blood, mortal, think it out; the girl is only half magical, and thus only possesses a certain limited amount of powers, whereas her cousins will have more powers to their disposal."_

"_M –magical?" Lionel stuttered, eyebrows raised skeptically, "As in wizards and all that?" _

"_Yes," Lynn's mother confirmed, "Your wife has run away from her destiny, a destiny that your daughter shares; her duty from birth to the Phoenix Coven is evident in the Phoenix birthmark on her arm . . . you _have _noticed that, haven't you?" _

_Lionel looked angry as he snapped, "Of course I've noticed." _

"_Then you'll understand that as long as you and Lynn wish to stay together, I'll be taking Bianca with me."_

"WHAT?" _Both Lynn and Lionel yelled, appalled at this thought. _

"_Mother, no!" Lynn half pleaded, eyes desperate. Bianca could feel her courage waning. Bianca had always been good at reading people, and she could see that this woman would not leave until she got what she came for. _

_Bianca's grandmother looked at the enraged parents and frightened child, standing her ground. She scrutinized Lionel and could see that he still didn't believe in magic, that he believed her to be part of some cult. _

"_You asked me what I meant by powers," she said softly. Then, she raised her hand and conjured an energy ball. _

_Lionel stared at it, looking torn. He whirled around to Lynn, face red as he demanded, "Is this true? Are you really . . . magical?" _

_Lynn looked defeated, not looking at Lionel as she whispered, "Yes. I'm a witch."_

"_It's either stay together, and we'll never bother you again –maybe, and I get Bianca, or both Lynn and Bianca come with me. But believe me, Lynn; it'd be easier for her if her mother came with her. I think I'll leave you to decide. But don't try to leave, Lynn, dear –I'll be back." The old lady's body seemed to distort for a moment, and she was gone. _

_The instant that she was gone, Lynn said, "Hurry, we have to pack. I can shimmer us somewhere, anywhere, anywhere away from her." _

_Lionel looked angry; Bianca could feel her Daddy's legs shaking slightly. "You were a . . . a _witch, _and you never told me!" _

_Lynn finally whirled around to face Lionel, her eyes flashing fiercely, "I was trying to escape that life, and to do so, I had to erase anything from that old life!" _

"_Well it didn't work, did it? She found you, didn't she? And now she's going to take Bianca away!" _

"_Stop yelling!" _

_Husband and wife turned around in surprise at the unexpected interruption. Bianca had tears in her eyes as she clutched her new teddy bear close to her chest. "I don't want to leave with that lady; I don't want you to fight!" _

_Lionel looked conflicted for a moment, but, apparently making up his mind, grabbed Bianca's arm tightly. "C'mon, Bianca, we're leaving!" _

"_Where the helldo you think you're doing?" Lynn demanded, sounding panicked. "This is what my mother wants; we can't separate!" _

_Lionel whirled around to Lynn. "No. It's _you _she wants, and it's _you _she'll get. Not Bianca. God, I can't believe I've been married to you for seven years and didn't know you were a _witch._" He spoke with disgust and contempt in his voice as he spat out the word "witch". _

"_So, despite how much I love you, despite all that I've done to erase the threads of the past, you will steal away _my _daughter just because I am different, special? Bianca is going to be the same, you know." _

_Lionel's face was contorted as he sneered, "I can suppress that side, somehow." _

_Her father tugged on her elbow even harder, but Bianca did her best to stay in the same spot. She did not want to leave her Mommy! She saw Mommy's face, how heart broken she looked and felt a flutter of anger at her father. Why was he so determined to make Mommy sad?_

_Then, Lynn's face morphed into one of determination. Raising her hand, palm up, she conjured an energy ball, just like her mother had. "I used to be a bounty hunter, Lionel, one of the best assassins in the Underworld . . . and I will not hesitate to use my powers again if you try to forcibly take Bianca from me." To Bianca, Mommy's voice was associated with warmth and safety. However, it had taken an icy tone that had resonated in her grandmother's speech. _

_At first, as Lionel grabbed Bianca's wrists, he'd seemed confident and determined. Now, his eyes were uncertain, and resentment blazed in his eyes._

_It was then, watching her parents gazing at each other with distrust and possibly hatred, attitude towards each other completely altered from just an hour ago, when Bianca realized that their marriage was going down the toilet, all because of the Phoenixes. _

_There was yelling, screaming, and threats ringing in the air. Bianca was huddled in the corner, clutching on to Teddy for dear life, or perhaps, for dear sanity. The only comfort she had in this situation was that Mommy hadn't actually made good on her threat and used her powers on Daddy. Bianca didn't want to see Mommy _or _Daddy hurt. _

"_So that's it?" Lynn said quietly, her usually strong voice cracking in emotional agony, "After everything, it will end like this?" _

"_I guess so," Lionel answered stiffly, "C'mon, Bianca." She realized that Daddy knew that Mommy would never hurt him, that he was taking advantage of Mommy's love for him to make sure of their safe passage. _

_But Bianca could feel a ripple of power in the air. Magic. She knew Mommy wasn't going to give her up that easily._

_"If it must be this way," Lynn said calmly and coldly, as though she had shut off all that made her Mommy, "then so be it." _

_Lionel turned around, confused at the sudden change in demeanor. Lynn had completely changed from the woman who had been just standing before him. Strength emulated from her, and her eyes were of cold determination. _

_Before Lionel could speak, she chanted:_

Memories of us shall wash away

No matter how hard I wish they could stay

Forget Bianca and I, Phoenixes and all

No more will you remember after your fall

_Suddenly, Lionel crumpled to the floor. Bianca shrieked in fright, dropping Daddy's hand immediately. "You've never told me about that, Mommy," Bianca whispered, awed and scared at the same time. _

"_It's called spell casting. It's a lost art in the Phoenix Coven, though other witches use it often. Learning the art, practicing it, has made me even more of the black sheep of the Coven." Lynn explained softly, back to being Mommy._

_Bianca took one more glance at her father, and stared into the eyes of her mother. She realized that she would have more in common, more to learn, from her mother than her father. It's not like it would matter anyway; if the spell worked, her Daddy would no longer remember her._

"_Where are we going, Mommy?" Bianca asked, grasping Teddy even tighter. _

_Lynn paused for a moment before answering, kneeling down so that she was level with Bianca, and held her tiny hands in hers. "We're going back with Grandma, with all the other Phoenixes. There, we'll get to be ourselves, and you don't have to hide your birthmark anymore, and we'll be our own people, not tied down to anyone other than each other, and our cousins in the Coven."_

"_So was Daddy tying you down? Was _I _tying you down?" _

_For a while, Lynn did not answer. "No. He wasn't. I loved him, and he loved me, but in the end, when it really mattered, he betrayed me, and I will never forget that. And you," she smiled as she stared into Bianca's bright grey eyes, "You are my sunshine." Bianca wrinkled her nose at what she considered to be a childish nickname, but that only made Lynn smile more widely. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Bianca, and I really think that going back is the right thing for us to do." _

"_But . . . weren't you trying to get away from that place?" Bianca asked. She still wasn't sure about this. The Phoenixes had split her parents apart!_

"_Yes, I was. But I was trying to run away from who I was, who _you _are. I want to stop running, for both our sakes. I think it'll be better this way." _

_Bianca smiled bravely, for her mother. She trusted her, despite her reserves about the Coven, and quietly packed her things, pausing occasionally to make sure that Teddy was comfortable in her suitcase. Bianca took one last look at her still unconscious father, tried to memorize every detail of his appearance, and had her last look of her childhood home before her mother shimmered them away . . . to the Phoenixes. _

"Bianca? Bianca?"

Shaking herself mentally out of her reminiscence, Bianca smiled apologetically. "Sorry, what?"

Chris was looking at her in slight confusion. "Are you okay? It looked like you zoned out there for a minute." A hint of a sly, teasing smile danced on his lips. "Am I _that _boring?"

Bianca chuckled, despite herself. "Yeah, actually. Did it really take you this long to notice?"

Looking slightly surprised at Bianca's casual retort, Chris answered. "Yep. I'm slow at these kind of things. Not enough practice; nope, all my brainpower is dedicated to planning, calculations, and strategy. There's absolutely _no _room for common sense in there." He tapped his head with his finger.

Amused at Chris's ability to joke while he was still reeling from the death of his cousin, Bianca respected Chris even more. He knew there were others depending on him to be the leader, and he gracefully handled the grief, but still staying strong for the morale of the others at the same time.

Chris reminded Bianca of her mother.

Maybe that's why she was feeling . . . almost friendly towards him. At first, she was using him as a means to an end, helping him only to end Wyatt's wretched tyranny. But now, now she wasn't sure what she was doing. If Bianca didn't know any better, she'd think that she was _falling _for Chris or something.

But she knew that was impossible. After all, hadn't it been drilled into her mind a million times that she couldn't trust men?

_Don't get attached, Bianca, they'll only break your heart. Use 'em and lose 'em._

Her mother _had _gotten attached though; she'd been married to Bianca's dad for _seven years_! And they'd been happy, hadn't they? Yeah, Bianca could still recall, after all these years, the fresh smell of her dad's suits when he came home, and the delicious scent of a home-cooked meal. She remembered how her mother and father treated each other so lovingly, so honestly. But maybe Lynn's lack of honesty in telling him of her true nature was what split them.

But they _had _been happy.

Bianca shook herself again mentally. Why was she thinking these thoughts? This frustrated her beyond reason, and it bugged her even more that she wasn't able to control what she was feeling. Bianca was an expert at control and restraint, but she supposed that living around virtually all women for most of her life didn't prepare her for these _hormones. _

God, she sounded like a freaking teenager.

* * *

"What are you talking about? You can't leave now! It's too dangerous!" 

"No, _here _is where it's dangerous! Wyatt will find us here, I _know _it! It's only a matter of time . . . I'm going to get out of the city as soon as possible . . ." the girl murmured as she pushed past her brother. Pausing, she glanced back at him hopefully. "Will you come too? It'd be . . . less lonely . . . if you came."

Brian frowned. "No. My duty and the safest place for you is _here_, within the Resistance."

Julia shook her head furiously. "No, no, no, Brian, don't you see? He will _find _us, and he'll kill us all!"

"He won't," he insisted, "We have Chris and Penelope, as well as a population of fighters to protect us. You know as much as I do that the magical protection around us is strong; Wyatt hasn't been able to break through before."

Julia's eyes were wild with fear as she grabbed her brother's shirt collar, pulling him towards her in urgency. "_It doesn't matter if we have Chris and Penelope! _Didn't you hear? He killed Melinda Halliwell, his cousin! What's to stop him from murdering his brother and other cousin, along with us? There's no way I'm going to die helplessly or be forced to work in his sweatshops. I won't!"

Gently prying her hands off of him, Brian looked closely at her and hoped he could at least use her pride against her to make her stay. "You coward."

"What?" she asked, mouth opened in indignation.

"So if Wyatt attacks us, like you're so sure he will, where will you be? Are you really going to leave us when we are _for sure _going to die? While we fight to the death, are you going to cowardly hide in the corner of some godforsaken city? If he _does _find us, we're going to fight tooth and nail. Hiding won't win this war. C'mon, Julia, you're my _sister. _Don't you think I want you to be safe? I promise you, the Resistance is the safest place right now, unless you want to go to another branch, in a different city."

She was quiet for a moment, not meeting Brian's eyes. "I'm leaving."

Brian sighed and released his hold on her. "If that's what you really want, I can't stop you." He pointed over in the direction of their potion store. "You'd better get some potions for your trip."

Julia's lip trembled at her brother' cold voice. "B-Brian . . ."

"What? You're abandoning us, what do you want me to say?" he snapped harshly.

A tear fell from Julia's eye onto her face. "Good luck," she muttered before setting off towards the potion supply, her shoulders slightly hunched in shame.

Brian watched her retreating back go, and heard a familiar voice ask softly, "You okay?"

He turned around to see Chris watching him with pitying eyes. "Yeah."

Chris looked skeptical; he didn't believe him. But he let it go. "C'mon, we need to discuss strategy . . ."

Brian took one last look at his sister and followed the leader of the Resistance.

* * *

**Four Days Later . . .**

"Chris!" Andrea shouted at the wall urgently. Oh god, oh god, this was bad. They thought something like this _could _happen, but they were hoping . . . "_Christopher Halliwell!" _

Chimes filled the air as Chris materialized, worry evident on his face, "What is it? What's wrong?"

Andrea pointed to the athame Bianca had given Chris, the blade now chalk black with bits of silver metal poking through in the form of five haunting, handwritten words:

_The witch burnings has begun. _

* * *

Wyatt smiled in satisfaction as the demons dragged in the struggling witch the probes had picked up earlier. The girl looked ragged and wounded; blood fell from a gash on her forehead. Wyatt was surprised that she had managed to stay conscious for this long. 

"Leave us," he instructed coldly. His demons bowed reverently and shimmered out.

Not bothering with pleasantries, Wyatt grabbed a fistful of the girl's hair roughly, her shrieks of pain echoing in the room. Yanking clumps of red hair, he forced her to stand up eye level with him.

"Let me go!" she shrieked, struggling furiously in Wyatt's grasp.

"Who are you?" he asked, his tone indicating that lies will not be tolerated. "Are you a part of the Resistance my brother leads?"

But she didn't answer either question, merely whimpering, "I don't want to die . . . please let me go . . ."

Wyatt sighed. Sometimes being extremely intimidating can be a major pain in the ass. Oh well, looks like he'll have to resort to magic.

_Girl who refuses to speak_

_Whose magic is undoubtedly weak_

_Open your mouth and tell me_

_What I need to know truthfully, so mote it be_

Grimacing slightly at the spell he had just made up on the spot, which was quite rough around the edges, Wyatt waited as he saw something change in the girl's eyes, which now looked quite dull. It didn't matter if the spell was a little awkward, as long as it works . . .

"What's your name?" Wyatt demanded.

"Julia Watson," she answered monotonously.

Wyatt nodded, pleased that the spell appeared to be working. "Do you work for the Resistance?"

"No."

Frowning, Wyatt decided to try making his question more specific. "Have you been in the company of the Resistance? If so, how long?"

"Yes, ever since it was formed."

"Why weren't you in the base?" Wyatt asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

Julia's eyes seemed to flicker a bit at this question, and she hesitated before answering.

"Answer me now!" Wyatt shouted, smug authority resounding in his voice.

The girl flinched before answering drearily, "I ran away; I was scared I was going to die when you attack."

Wyatt had smirk at the irony in her statement. He knew exactly then what he was going to do with the girl. Wyatt was furious about before, when dear Christopher and Penelope stormed the Manor, _his _Manor, and slipped through his fingertips again, _again! _And they made him so displeased with Melinda that he killed her! He knew that a message needed to be sent; they needed to be warned of the consequences to defying Wyatt will be.

_On Julia a spell was just cast_

_Release her now, no longer last_

Julia blinked furiously and she looked dazed for a moment. Then, she seemed to realize where she was, and her eyes widened in fear. She began struggling in Wyatt's grasp again. He held her tightly, and she finally calmed down, accepting defeat.

"What are you going to do with me?" she whispered.

"I'm going to burn you at the stake." Wyatt replied calmly.

Her eyes widened and she screamed, "NO!" The ground around her began to shake uncontrollably.

Wyatt was intrigued by this power, but he would not allow it to stop him. Using his telekinesis, he shoved Julia _hard _into the wall, causing dust to shake from the ceiling. The earth's tremble instantly stopped.

"Looks like we'll have to bind your powers before we burn you . . . it'd be a damper on the burning, wouldn't it?" Wyatt asked cheerfully, a hint of malice underlining his tone.

Julia, blood dripping down from her forehead, didn't answer as she fell into unconsciousness.

After what seemed like an eternity later, Julia groggily awoke, sensing instantly that something was wrong.

Her vision, at first blurred, began to clear, and the minute it did, she wished she was still enveloped in the darkness behind her eyelids.

In front of her, she could see that she was in the middle of a previously forlorn street, now filled with the buzz of demons swarming around, adding wood and hay to the stack beneath her feet. Tears of defeat, tears of overwhelming fear ran down her face as she choked back sobs. Julia had abandoned the Resistance out of fear of being killed by Wyatt . . .how ironic. If she had been killed in a raid on the Resistance, her death would most likely be quick at the very least.

Now, her death would be slow, gradual, and agonized.

She only wished that she could somehow fall back into blissful unconsciousness and be awakened only as her spirit floated up to all those others who had died in this war, the war she'd been trying to run away from.

Instead, she'd found herself the ornament of Wyatt's warning to his rebellious brother and cousin. If Julia still had the ability to, she would have laughed at the big, fat irony of it all.

Julia wanted so desperately to close her eyes, turn away from the spark that would initiate her grisly demise. A spark of flames from a tiny match has never been so interesting before. Unable to close her eyes, Julia instead set her eyes on the tiny flame, blossoming as it spread to wood and hay, the small fire beginning to grow bigger and bigger and closer and closer to her. She was determined that she wouldn't scream; no, she wouldn't give that monster the satisfaction.

On her the blame for her death lies, and she would brave it.

The flames were coming closer to her, so uncomfortably close . . . tiny beads of sweat ran down her face as she tried to move her body as far back as she could, trying desperately to hold on to the seconds of life that she had left. For a moment, Julia could have sworn that she could see her horrified face reflected in the growing flame.

She couldn't see them, but Julia could hear the delighted cackles of demons watching the burning, enjoying the pain and suffering tremendously. Julia felt a disgusted knot in her stomach as she fully absorbed that there was no getting out of this. She was going to die, on display for Wyatt and his demons and most likely all of San Francisco.

Fire licked her feet, melting the rubber sole of her shoe to the wood beneath her. She could feel the bottom of her feet burn painfully. Julia's face scrunched up in agony as she tried not to scream, biting furiously into her lip, tasting the sour blood that flowed into her mouth.

A scream tried to desperately claw its way out of Julia's dry and sore throat as she felt unbearable heat on her legs. She felt her clothes melting and melding onto her skin, and felt as if she was being cooked on a frying pan. The scream was almost out . . . she was no longer sweating; it was so hot that her sweat was being evaporated.

Finally, as the flames extended up onto her upper body, Julia could contain the scream no longer, and she let it out, her agonized shriek echoing eerily in the dark night, now alit by a bonfire stretching up into the sky, trying to reach the stars as it consumed the small figure tied in the middle of it.

The last thing Julia heard before everything thankfully faded away was the equally agonized scream of a brother who'd come to the rescue too late.


	7. Milestone

Wow, thanks for the reviews! I really truly appreciate the feedback, so thank you. Sorry for the _long_ wait –my current _Harry Potter_ story is one that I absolutely love and am very excited/inspired about, and school's been keeping me busy. **For any of you who read "Fragments":** I'm going to try and get my inspiration up to work on it; I just posted this story first because I already had the majority done from when I worked on it in the summer. Once again, I apologize for the wait; please bear with me while I try to get out of the loss of inspiration due to the lack of Chris in the past two _Charmed_ seasons. Kudos to **Altaira, hybrid88, rach**, **shyeye, and witching hour **for their encouraging reviews. Enjoy the chapter (only two more left till the end)!

* * *

Chris knew there was something seriously wrong with this situation. For one thing, he shouldn't concern himself with personal feelings and romances, which were trivial now compared to the bigger picture, the war. Actually, he wasn't really sure if what he feeling _was _anything romantic of the sort; she was a beautiful woman after all, perhaps he was just attracted to her looks.

Yeah, that must be it.

But was it really? Every time he tried to think up an excuse to dismiss his emotions, they always came clawing their way back up to the surface. _I don't have time for teenage angst, _Chris thought, rolling his eyes at the thought. He'd left that behind when his brother had become the evil overlord of the world.

Besides, other emotions were more important than this simple attraction. Brian had become a complete and utter mess; Chris, too, had been shaken by what he had seen. Julia's small body, barely visible from their vantage point, had been engulfed in flames stretching out to the sky, to the heavens, as if paving the way for her deceased soul. If Chris hadn't known who they were attempting to save, he wouldn't have recognized the blackened figure in the pillar of fire.

He shivered as the horrific image that had been burned permanently into his memory floated to the surface again. Chris had _known _Julia, spoke with her, joked with her. To have died in the worst way imaginable . . . even Chris could see the poetic irony of it all. Wyatt always was good at metaphors.

Not only was her death a representation of the reborn witch burnings, but it was also supposed to signify that a Good witch had died the same way a demon would; by being swallowed whole by an inferno until it became nothing but ash.

And it was true; although Julia's death was much slower than those demons, it was the same pain, the same . . . he couldn't even possibly imagine what else it was.

They had retrieved her body, burnt coal black beyond recognition. Bits of frayed, ragged clothing clung from her skeleton. Those famous high cheekbones of her stood out even more stubbornly when they were all that was left of her face. Chris remembered feeling Brian stagger beside him, breathing faster and faster, shocked and overwhelmed at seeing his sister's body. He, however, had felt a strange nothingness. Chris just stared at her body, eyes wide, his mind unable to wrap around or comprehend what kind of monster could allow such destruction to take place. All of his other senses had seemed to abandon him; his hearing was dull, but he could still make out the various puking noises the others were emitting.

Chris had snapped out of his shocked, horrified stupor when he tasted salt. He realized then that silent tears streaked his face, clearly standing out from the dirty grime on his face from the fight. Ah, the fight.

Honestly, looking back, Chris didn't think anybody has ever fought harder. The rescue had ceased being a rescue when a nearby demon had caught them off their guard and alerted the others. From there on, they fought through demon after demon to get to Julia, hoping against hope that it was still not too late. Unfortunately, fate decided to trump that desperate hope.

By the time the team tore apart every single demon in their path, Chris could see it was too late, and, after quickly analyzing the situation, noted that many had been injured. He moved his arms up to send ringing orbs into the air, the signal for a retreat.

Someone, however, grabbed him by the arm and yanked it down. Chris moved to attack his assailant, but halted when he saw a furious Brian.

"_We are **not **leaving her behind!" he hissed, his vice-like grip tightening on Chris's arm painfully._

_Chris hesitated, but knew Brian wouldn't back down. No, he decided, they would finish off every single piece of shit, for Julia. _

"_Okay," Chris conceded, pausing to fling his athame at an oncoming demon. _

_So they continued on, but Chris threw a potion on the ground that made red fumes encircle the group, making sure everyone could see. That was the signal for the badly injured to get the hell out of there. Chris didn't know if many of them would actually retreat without the rest of the team; they were all noble, loyal fighters in that respect. _

Chris sighed, leaning his head up against the cool wall as he soaked in the silence of his room. There wasn't a single sound anywhere; no distant chatter or the _thump _of footsteps along the corridor. Since the Resistance was more concerned about the war, the acoustics in the place were horrible, and noises echoed loudly wherever they in the underground building.

The atmosphere today was somber, and it had soaked into every crevice, every niche of the Resistance, reminding them that this was another mourning day, one of many. Too many.

Footsteps echoed in the corridor, indicating someone's approach towards him. Chris realized that he really didn't want to have to deal with anyone right now, so he quickly orbed out to avoid whoever it was.

Ah, the outdoors. Thankfully, Chris's pensive park was far away from the burn site, so there wasn't a trace of violent charcoal or ash in the air, just . . . peace. Propping his leg up on the stone bench, he gazed out at the serene landscape, completely barren of people, filled with random torch marks on the ground, scarred trees, and broken benches, making the park a mere echo of the beauty it used to be. Chris's own bench had miraculously escaped any major damage; it was still suitable, even if the angel statue behind him had been injured by a stray energy ball.

It was one of the places that had been forever changed by the war, a physical metaphor for how utterly change can destruct all they once knew, all that they valued. People say that change is for the better, but is it really? Not in this case, not in Wyatt's twisted view.

Nevertheless, he still liked it here. Though it was a shadow of what it used to be, the park still retained a calm after the storm effect, even if the storm was still raging. Yeah, Chris knew it was dangerous to come out in the open, especially considering the fact that any demon would absolutely love to bring him in to their master, yet he couldn't help it. Sometimes, in this crazy, chaotic world of theirs, silence is the best cure. The park was a good place to think, and since it had long since been abandoned, it was also a solitary one.

"Chris."

Instincts taking over, Chris leaped off the bench and into a defensive stance. A chuckle broke the serenity of the park and brought him back to reality.

Bianca's lips twisted sadly, almost sympathetically. "How are you doing, Chris?"

"Fine." Pause. "How'd you find me here?"

"What can I say? I'm psychic."

"Really."

"Yeah, really. Actually, I figured you'd take refuge here."

"And what makes you think I'm taking refuge from anything?"

"I can see it in your eyes, Chris."

"Since when did you become so perceptive?" he asked harshly, the bite evident in his tone.

"Since forever. A necessity for an assassin."

"Was nagging a 'necessity' too?"

"Ouch. Hey, I didn't need to come here, you know."

"Then why _are_ you here?"

Bianca paused, biting her lip hesitantly. "Because if you don't deal with your damn baggage, the Resistance will suffer, and I can't afford Wyatt to become a permanent autocrat," she said roughly, but her eyes were vulnerable and held concern behind the shadow of her pupils.

Chris stared at her with a quirked eyebrow. "So you believe in 'Me, Myself, and I' huh?"

The assassin closed her eyes in irritation. "That didn't come out right," she explained, her tone cold and unapologetic, defensive.

"No kidding."

Silence. Usually, he and Bianca were on pretty good terms, but today . . . today he just couldn't stand _humanity. _The guilt wrenching feelings of having failed Julia, failed Mom, failed his family, failed _Wyatt_ . . . just the pure agony of living was bad enough, especially when the rest of his family was gone. Sometimes, just . . . sometimes finding the reason why he keeps on fighting is hard.

_Because it's that stubborn Halliwell blood in you. _

"Scoot over," Bianca ordered, indicating the action with her hand. Chris regarded her for a moment, but did as she said. The Phoenix slowly sat down on the bench, her movements gradual and careful; he didn't miss the momentary wince of pain that flashed across her carefully guarded features.

"Life sucks, huh?"

Chris breathed out a sigh of relief. He was expecting an "I'm sorry for your loss" or something like that, something reminiscent of what he'd heard from her after Melinda's death. Honestly, then he would have welcomed any sort of comfort, but right now, he did _not _need any pity.

"Yeah, I guess it does." He answered softly. _What a perfect way to put it, _he mused. "What happened to your leg?"

Bianca looked down at the lump on her right leg that gave away her condition. She grimaced. "Oh, that. The gigantic bandage under this stupid leather uniform gave it away, huh?"

"You still haven't answered the question."

"Getting better at noticing subtle stuff like that," she noted. "Usually men aren't the most insightful of the sexes."

Chris couldn't help but grin in mock indignation at her tone. "I resent that!"

"Well, you're not as bad as the rest of them," Bianca said seriously, flashing him an award winning smile.

He laughed, his voice somewhat hoarse. That felt good; he was glad Bianca had come find him, lift his spirits. However, not deterred by Bianca's attempts to change the subject, he inclined his head at her leg. "Did you get that on a mission?"

Bianca's brief smile faltered slightly, then neutralized. "No," she said, shrugging. "Wyatt was displeased with me."

"_What?_" Chris yelled, his blood boiling.

She looked at him strangely, surprised at his reaction. "It'll heal, Chris; besides, it's not like I haven't had worse injuries."

"That doesn't make it right! It doesn't mean he can just . . . _treat _people this way!"

"He controls everything. Of course he can."

"We can heal that for you, you know," Chris offered.

Bianca looked confused. "I thought you didn't want me coming into your base."

_Duh. _Chris remembered that even in that feverish state a while ago, when Melinda had tried to kill him, he had refused to tell Bianca the location of the Resistance. But so far she had proven herself trustworthy. Was it worth it to give her a chance?

He decided not to risk it.

Bianca had been watching him carefully, and she could read by his expressive eyes that he had retracted the offer. "It doesn't matter," she told him. She, for one, could definitely understand the value of trust and how, especially in this world, suspicion runs high. After all, the Phoenix clan used to be a close knit family; now, however, it was everyone for herself.

"Sorry," Chris apologized sheepishly, feeling embarrassed. He looked deep into her eyes, into the brown depths of her soul. Something about the complexity of what he saw deeply moved him, and he realized in that moment just how beautiful and kind they were beneath the tough exterior. Before he knew it, those eyes were getting closer . . .

"Chris, what are you –" Bianca was cut off as Chris's lips touched hers. Instinct wanted to kick his forward ass, but her heart didn't want to let go. Softly, she returned the kiss, driven by the exhilarating feeling of being wanted, of the pure electricity that flowed through her veins, jumpstarting the heart she had coveted and protected so cautiously.

It was like nothing she'd ever experienced before. Other men always attacked, pursuing her lips with nothing but rough passion fueling their desires. But with Chris, it was different. It was . . . sweet. Sweet and true and surprisingly authentic. Real.

Suddenly, Chris broke the moment. He looked into her eyes, which registered both shock and disappointment, with amazement at what he'd just done. Face flushing red, Chris kicked himself for letting his damn emotions get in the way, making him do stupid things. Oh, hell, he was just ashamed because he had _liked _it.

Still, he definitely wouldn't mind kissing her again.

_Oh, god, shut up! _He told himself, _I am not a freaking teenager anymore; I shouldn't be so . . . impulsive! _

"I'm really sorry," he apologized quickly, stumbling over his words, "I –I don't know what I was thinking." _Yes, you do. _"I didn't mean for it to happen –" _Yeah you did. _"I'm really sorry," _No, you're not. _"Honestly."

Bianca couldn't take this anymore, the rambling and the not-Chris-like stuttering. So, logically, she did the only thing that would shut him up.

She kissed him.

* * *

Bianca leaned against the broken lamppost calmly, examining her nails and glancing at the occasional passerby in suspicion every so often. She shifted uncomfortably in civilian clothes, feeling exposed and vulnerable without that stupid leather outfit she hated so much. Guess Wyatt's influence got to her more than she originally thought.

Still, it gave her a certain feeling of freedom, this outfit, an outfit she chose to wear, instead of being forced to. Bianca's lips twitched into a smile as she remembered her college days. The Matriarch hadn't wanted Bianca to go to college, to experience what her grandmother considered to be a "weak, mortal initiation", but never one to have a particular affinity for the rules, she went anyway.

College had completely opened her eyes to . . . everything. It helped her learn skills other than breaking necks and throwing athames; it gave her a familiarity with the world outside of the Coven, of the assassins.

Of murder.

Bianca's immediately brightened out of her dark thoughts as she heard orb chimes in the alley behind her. After a moment's deliberation about whether or not to expose her back to possible danger, she decided to hell with it and faced the newcomer.

"Miss me?"

She scoffed. "Yeah, right."

Chris grinned roguishly, extending his arm out in invitation, which Bianca accepted, smirking all the while as he pulled her into the alley. She cocked her head to one side, teasing him, daring him. Her favorite angel smirked and accepted the challenge, gently entrapping her lips.

He was always gentle.

Honestly, Bianca didn't know how they had managed to see each other all these months and still keep their relationship a secret to both Wyatt and the Resistance. Chris had explained to her that it wasn't because he was ashamed of her; the Resistance just needed more time to get used to her being around because of their instinctive suspicious nature. Recently, she had been given the green light to finally enter the Resistance Headquarters, with which she had been impressed with against her will.

Being one of Wyatt's top assassins, Bianca was privy to a lot of important information regarding the Resistance, but how they managed to make such a good headquarters with their limited funds, she had no idea. But then, Chris was their resourceful leader. Maybe she really shouldn't be all that surprised.

"So," Chris commented as they broke apart. "We still up for the 'date'?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" Bianca retorted slyly.

"Orbing or shimmering?"

"Shimmering, I think. Quicker, faster, _quieter._"

"Is that a subtle insult?"

"Maybe."

With that, Bianca grabbed Chris's hand and shimmered them to their destination, a quiet and worn abandoned warehouse. The entire place reeked of the War, with the ceiling and walls practically coming apart from the seams; black residue from energy and fire balls filled the gloomy room in arbitrary places while bullet holes allowed brief glances at life to shine through from the outside. Bianca shivered. This was the sort of place that one would use to hide from the truth, to believe that if you stick an eye near those holes, you'd see a better place, salvation.

All lies, all deception.

Chris tapped her on the shoulder, jerking his head towards a stack of cardboard boxes in the ignored corner of the room. It looked as perfect a place for hidden observation as any, since the junk surrounding it would provide a good cover. Nodding slowly, they swiftly creped to their temporary cover to await their houseguests. Bianca reached into her leather boots (curse that leather wearing regiment; she can't seem to shake its regulations) and pulled out a special athame –one that she herself had modified with her recently recovered witch powers.

_What are you doing?_ Chris mouthed.

Bianca ignored him and placed the tip of the weapon on the lower part of the cardboard. Caressing the phoenix emblem on the hilt, she concentrated, activating the hidden power the athame held. Her eyes widened as she felt the addicting magic coursing through her veins, exhilaration filling her as a mix of dark and light magic combined to fit her needs. Carefully, she began to push the athame through the cardboard. Once the entire blade was inside, fire flared, her ears rang with the a distant bird's cries, and a perfect hole was burned right through, giving them a clear view of whatever was going on.

Her companion fiercely shook her shoulder, his face angry. Bianca shook her head, explaining in hushed tones, "It's cloaked by a spell. Nobody on the other side will be able to see that it was damaged at all, but we'll be able to see everything."

"How'd you do that?" Chris asked somewhat irritably, but a boyish curiosity lit his green eyes.

"_Shh,_" Bianca hissed, pointing at the slight shift in the air. Sure enough, a couple of extremely muscular demons shimmered in, carrying with them the slight stench of magic. The lack of power meant that these were mere thugs, not the upper level demons they were looking for.

_Disguise yourself, _Chris mouthed to Bianca, who hesitated, afraid that they'd detect the magic. But she whispered a spell and morphed into a blonde, looking completely unlike herself. They could never be too careful, especially since Bianca was their top insider into Wyatt's operations. To be honest, she really should have disguised herself earlier; they need to be sure that despite all of _this_, the slight feeling of normality they got from their relationship, that they don't slip up and ruin everything they've worked for.

Bianca lightly tapped him on the shoulder, pointing out the new arrivals. Finally, their prey had come.

Two demons shimmered in the wake of the two guards, both regarding the other warily. "Are you sure this is a secure place?" One asked suspiciously, the circular tattoo on his left cheek pulsating rapidly.

"Would I have taken you here if it weren't?" the other snapped irritably, blood-red eyes flashing.

"Make it quick," Tattoo retorted, "I've got business, you know. _Important _meetings for world destruction and all."

Chris rolled his eyes at the corniness of this stereotypically bad-guy conversation. In fact, if he didn't know any better, it all seemed a little bit _too _set up . . . he focused his whitelighter senses for any outside forces or more subtle security, ones that he may have missed in the initial sweep. As far as he could tell, there were none, but he kept one hypothetic ear out for any magical security ripples.

They were still discussing some 'urgent matter' that wasn't quite what Bianca and Chris had come for. The info they seeked was as urgent as anything, so _why weren't they getting to the point!_

Finally.

"Have you worked out the kinks in the Weapon?"

"Yes; even tested it on some stupid fairies and trolls. Burned 'em right out from the inside." Red Eyes' scowl morphed into one of sick, sadistic pleasure.

"Have you tried it out on witches yet?" Tattoo asked in the same irritable tone, though a twinge of excitement had seeped into his voice.

Red Eyes laughed harshly. "Tried it out on witches? Do you honestly _think _that there are witches just wandering out in the streets, waiting for us to prey on them? They've gotten smarter; they aren't as careless as they once were. The chances of finding them vulnerable on top is as likely that there are witches here, listening to our every word."

Bianca and Chris had to exchange wry grins at this.

Tattoo narrowed his eyes. "But I need this for the _witches._ If you cannot be certain that this will work on their magic –"

"It'll work." Red Eyes interrupted firmly. "I'm sure of it."

"I can't afford mistakes; Lord Wyatt will skin me if this doesn't work."

"Literally?"

"Literally."

Red Eyes scowled. "Listen, I'll just give it to you now and you can test it out on Lord Wyatt's next witch prisoner." He raised his palm up and a formidable looking gun appeared in a swirl of black smoke. Gingerly, he handed the gun to Tattoo with the care of a father handing another his child. "That took me a lot of work, this Weapon. Lotta my men's blood."

"All right then . . . we'll see if this Weapon of yours works. Don't let the witches get you down."

Red Eyes laughed, his rough voice sending shivers down Chris's spine. "Never do . . . never do."

After they shimmered out, Chris and Bianca remained absolutely silent, both from extra security and dread. It was only after a space of five minutes that one of them actually spoke.

"I guess that'll be my new job now," Bianca said, a very subtle quiver in her strong voice.

"I guess," Chris repeated before he could shut himself up. Like his comment was going to help any. "You should probably go before they miss you."

A shadow of anxiety flickered in Bianca's eyes. "I'll see you later then . . . with info." She leaned in and pecked Chris on the cheek quickly, shimmering before Chris could even say his goodbye.

Chris frowned at the empty space. "Okay then," he muttered to himself, unable to shake that weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. Then, some innate instinct caused him to turn his head towards the corner of the room, only to catch a glimpse of _someone else _shimmering away.

_Damn it._ Chris thought, suddenly feeling nauseous. That demon must have heard everything they said. Why couldn't he have sensed it?

_Oh god._ _Bianca. _They knew! They knew, and those bastards were going to kill her, he knew it. He knew he could, he knew he couldn't just risk himself and charge into Wyatt's HQ, but by then logic had completely escaped him in worry for his girlfriend. In a flash, he sensed the lingering trail of magic the demon had left behind, piggybacking on its magic to avoid detection into Wyatt's HQ.

After arriving in the destination, he quickly hid in a pretty safe area, closed his eyes, and sensed for Bianca, pushing everything away as he focused on her beautiful brown eyes, the curves of her hips, the volumes of hair that liked to wrap its way around him when they kissed. Pushing the desperation down, he focused his mind on one thing. He had to find her; he had to save her . . .

Got her.

Numbly, not even truly thinking about it, he glided through the HQ in a daze, allowing only instinct to tell him to dive into hiding or dive into a dark corner. Actually, it surprised him about to lack of security. But then, almost no one knew about the piggybacking magic; that was something Leo had taught him, one of the few things that he ever did with Chris . . .

To use that method on a full scale attack was in the works; everyone was being taught how, but they needed to get a blueprint on the HQ, and for that Bianca needed time to find her way around and memorize every detail, anything they could use to their advantage.

Chris's detection on Bianca was bursting in his head right now. She was here –he knew it. Behind the door.

It was locked, but Chris knew how to open it. He frowned as his magic didn't work. Chris considered just knocking, but this could be anything –an informational room, somewhere he'll get her in trouble for. But then, she was already _in _trouble, so he'll go, just take it a little slowly. He focused his magic even more and performed an even more powerful spell on the lock. It didn't work.

Finally, he focused all of his magic on the lock, building up the energy inside and releasing it on the doorknob. _There we go, _he thought, feeling exhausted. It must be an important room if there was such a powerful spell barring anyone from entering.

After a final check to make sure the coast was clear, he slowly opened the door, ready to be gone at any moment.

He frowned. There were some loud noises inside, and it definitely didn't sound like a meeting –more like a bar fight, if anything . . .

Opening the door just a crack more, Chris could feel his eyes being burned, hear his mother's voice shrieking at him, believing that, at fourteen, he was still innocently naïve of certain aspects of the teenage world . . .

A brown head, one that has felt Chris's hand running through its intricate locks with tender fingers, was suddenly on top.

Chris's mind turned into jelly as he watched the almost violent thrashing that was taking place on the king sized bed, watching in turn as the brunette and the blonde came up for air. Disbelief, denial filled his mind as his pride and heart was repeatedly stepped on at every second. His emotions were a big muddle until it finally decided on two: rage and a deep, sinking sadness.

_Bianca and Wyatt . . . oh god . . ._


End file.
